


A Walk in the Woods

by brihana25



Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series)
Genre: Drama, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Season/Series 01, Strong Language, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-05-28 18:55:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 56,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15055580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brihana25/pseuds/brihana25
Summary: A teacher takes his student to the mountain on a search for balance. A sensei takes his champion to the mountain on a search for answers. It was inevitable they would run into each other, but they could never have imagined what they'd run up against. Their weekend in the woods becomes a battle for their lives, and to survive it, they will all have to rely on the last thing they ever expected to need. Each other.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As always, with massive love and thanks and smooches to Switch842 for being the best alpha/beta/bestie in the universe. Also, thanks to thatsweetbobbyfacetho, dream-beyond-the-fantasy, theempressAR and outforawalkbitkah for volunteering their time and talent as betas, and helping me do our beloved boys justice. 
> 
> If you like this story, thank those five. If you think it sucks, blame me.

_"Congratulations. You did what I always thought you could do. You won."_

_"You got what you wanted, Johnny. You won. Congratulations."_

He won. He lost. He won. He couldn't tell the difference.

_"I want him out of commission."_

_"But, Sensei, I can beat this guy!"_

_"Don't worry. I got this."_

"Miguel, no ..."

_"I don't want him beaten."_

_"Show him what you've got."_

_"Out of commission."_

Images. Faces. Voices. One into another into the next.

_"Cobra Kai is back where it belongs."_

_"Illegal contact. You're disqualified!"_

_"Disqualified for excessive and deliberate contact!"_

Past, present, past … fading and striking and fading again.

_"That's one warning for unsportsmanlike contact."_

_"Warning for illegal contact to the knee."_

No. Not again. He couldn't do it again. He couldn't be that again.

_"What the hell are you thinking, man?"_

_"What was I supposed to do, be a pussy?"_

"Robby … I'm sorry …"

_"I found his weakness, Sensei, it's his shoulder."_

_"Sweep the leg."_

"No."

_"It's gotta be the right way."_

_"You have a problem with that?"_

_"We don't have to fight dirty."_

_"There's nothing dirty about winning, Sensei."_

The right way. The wrong way. Which was which? Why couldn't he tell them apart?

_"No, Sensei."_

_"Back on top."_

_"You taught me that."_

_"No mercy."_

The lessons worked. Miguel wasn't him. And he wasn't Kreese.

_"I have a student of my own."_

_"I got this. No mercy."_

_"Dad, back off!"_

_"What the hell's wrong with you?"_

_"You gotta be kiddin' me."_

_"Everyone closed the book on us. They thought we were done."_

He wasn't him. He couldn't be. He wouldn't be.

_"You alright, kid?"_

_"How's the leg, son?"_

No. Miguel was better than that. Robby deserved better than that.

_"It took you sixteen years."_

_"No mercy."_

_"I need you."_

_"It's okay, Dad."_

_"Somebody needs to be there for him."_

_"You're alright, LaRusso."_

He hurt them. He hurt them all.

_"But now they see that the real story's only just begun."_

_"You're gonna regret this when it's over."_

_"Yeah, right. Like this'll ever be over."_

He couldn't let it happen again. It had to end. He had to end it.

_"Sorry, kid. I gotta go."_

_"What about me? I need you."_

_"Robby, I'm sorry."_

_"It's okay, Dad."_

_"Daniel, I'm sorry!"_

_"My leg! It hurts!"_

He couldn't breathe. He hurt them. He wouldn't do it again.

_"Finish him!"_

_"You're alright, LaRusso."_

Blood … blood? On the ground. On his clothes. On his hands. Where was it coming from?

"LaRusso …"

_"You're alright, LaRusso. It's okay. You're okay."_

Darkness. Pain. Blood. So much blood.

_"Daniel, I'm sorry."_

"I'm sorry!"

Johnny Lawrence shot up in bed with the echoes of his own words still ringing in his ears. He let his head fall forward, pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, and tried to shove the fading images of the nightmare away.

"The fuck was that?" he asked the empty room.

He thought about going back to sleep, but the lightening sky outside his window, combined with the images still burned into his mind, convinced him it would be pointless. He turned on the mattress, hanging his legs over the side, and lifted his head. He reached for the beer before he remembered it wouldn't be there. The water he'd been keeping by his bed the past few months wasn't going to be nearly strong enough to help, but he drank it, anyway. At least it washed away the bitter bile that had risen into the back of his throat.

Nightmares were nothing new, but the one he'd just woken from was unlike any he'd ever had. He couldn't begin to explain it, not even to himself. The stuff with Kreese, with Miguel and Robby, that part made sense. Hardly a moment of the past five days had gone by without at least one of them, usually all three of them, occupying his thoughts.

He hadn't seen Kreese since the night the man had walked out of the grave and into his dojo. He hadn't seen Robby since he'd stood at the side of the mat, watched his student purposely hurt his own son, given Miguel some line about not fighting dirty and done nothing else to stop it. And though he'd seen Miguel every day since then, he hadn't really talked to him. Their conversations were about nothing more than form and technique – meaningless, pointless things that weren't going to help either one of them move forward. All of it weighed heavy on his mind and his heart. It didn't surprise him that he'd had nightmares about them every night.

But the one he'd just had was different. It was darker, heavier. Scarier. And all that stuff with LaRusso was new. When had he started featuring in Johnny's nightmares as anything other than the guy who ruined his life? What was with all the blood? And what the hell did it mean?

Sighing, he pushed himself to his feet and headed for the kitchen to find something to eat. As soon as he hit the doorway, he had a thought that stopped him in his tracks. He turned around, looked back at his bed, and then at the front door.

He was unsure if Kreese was a threat. He was so off-kilter around the man he barely knew his own name. All it had taken to erase 34 years of Johnny Lawrence being his own man was for John Kreese to walk through the door. Everything he'd thought and felt and believed was gone. He was the same frightened seventeen-year-old kid he'd been the night Kreese had nearly killed him. But even without knowing what Kreese had planned, without knowing if he was there as friend or foe, he knew he couldn't allow himself to trust him. He wouldn't let him start influencing his kids. He had to protect them from him, especially Miguel.

If Miguel's victory had taught Johnny anything, it was that he needed to rethink almost everything about how and what he'd taught his kids. If Kreese walked in and tried to take over while they were still in the headspace where _No Mercy_ was more a way of life than a motto, he'd lose them. He couldn't lose his kids. He'd already lost his son; he couldn't lose Miguel, too.

He couldn't think about Robby without thinking about LaRusso, though, and there was almost too much pain there to deal with. It hurt that his own efforts to save his son had been rejected, that LaRusso had once again succeeded where he had failed. Even so, in the end, Robby was safe, and that was the whole point, wasn't it? Of course, he wished he'd been the one to do it, but LaRusso had pulled him out of that life. He'd pulled him away from those two chuckleheads, from the petty crimes, from the drugs, from the life that was swallowing him whole. From all of it. LaRusso had saved him.

It hurt like hell to admit it. He was sure he'd never say it to anyone else, but that was the way it was. Johnny had screwed up Robby's entire life, and Daniel LaRusso had fixed it. Maybe … could he do the same for Miguel?

No, that wasn't the question, because he didn't doubt that he could. The real question was: could Johnny swallow his pride and make himself ask? Could he admit he was that big of a failure? If it was Miguel's soul on the line, just as it had been Robby's? If it was the only way to save him from Kreese's potential influence and Johnny's failures as a teacher? The only chance he had to turn him back into the sweet kid he'd been just a few weeks earlier before it was too late? Was Johnny strong enough to go to his rival, hat in hand, and beg him for help? And even if he did, would LaRusso be willing to do it?

There was only one way to find out.

Johnny forgot about breakfast and went to get dressed.

* * *

"Robby?"

Daniel LaRusso pushed the door of his guest room open slowly and stuck his head through it.

"Hey, Robby. You up?"

The lump under the blankets didn't answer him, so he stepped into the room, closing the door softly. As he crossed to the bed, he saw that though Robby may have been asleep, he definitely wasn't resting. His head was tossing back and forth on the pillow, the muscles in his arms were tight, his feet were moving around, and his face was pinched around his eyes.

Robby had had more than his fair share of nightmares over the week he'd been staying with them. Daniel would admit to himself and Amanda that he'd had a few of his own, but Robby's concerned him. They both had a lot on their minds, but for Robby, it was so much worse. Daniel had gotten bits and pieces of the story from him, though he hadn't pushed, thinking it best to let Robby open up at his own pace instead of one Daniel set for him. And just those few glimpses he'd gotten had upset him.

Robby's thoughts and feelings about his own life, his father, his mother, Miguel, his childhood, and even a couple of former "friends" he'd mentioned were starting to wear him down. There was just so much there – physical and emotional abandonment, pressure, betrayal, reaching out over and over only to get nothing in return, feeling like he'd become a punching bag for the boy he thought his own father had thrown him aside for – and it was too much. It had left him feeling worthless, unwanted, unloved.

It was too much for anyone to deal with. To do it at sixteen? To do it alone?

Robby's stay in the guest room was a temporary arrangement, just until his shoulder was done healing, but Daniel thought he'd had too many "temporary arrangements" in his life, and he wanted to give him something permanent. Something that couldn't be taken away. He'd brought it up to Amanda the night before, while they were getting ready for bed. They'd been talking about their days, comparing notes, and he'd just dropped it in like it was something he said every day.

_"I want Robby to move in."_

_"You want what?" She'd sounded shocked, but there was no real way she could have been surprised. She paid too much attention to what was going on around her to not have known it was going to come up at some point._

_He shrugged and walked into the bathroom to wash his face. "I want Robby to move in," he repeated._

_"That's what I thought you said." She pulled the blankets back and tossed the pillows into place. "Okay, I get it. You really like Robby. So do I. He's a sweet kid. And I'm fine with him staying here for a while, but to move in?" She settled on the bed and leaned against the headboard. "Don't you think that's a little extreme?"_

_"What's extreme about it?" He finished drying his face, tossed the towel down on the sink, and walked back into the bedroom. "I moved in with Mr. Miyagi when I was his age."_

_"Yes, but your mother was in New Jersey, not North Hills."_

_"When I moved in, it was because she was going to Fresno," he corrected. "She went back to New Jersey while we were in Okinawa." He sat down on the edge of the bed, and then looked at her across his shoulder. "But the point is, I moved in with him, and I lived there for two years. It's not extreme. It's normal."_

_She sighed and smiled at him, shaking her head almost indulgently. "Daniel, I love you. But that's not normal. It might be normal for you, but, babe, do you even listen to yourself? You're talking about going to Okinawa like everyone just drops everything and takes off to foreign countries on a whim when they're sixteen. Your normal is so not normal."_

_He had to smile at that. She had a point._

_"And there are few big differences. First, your father wasn't Mr. Miyagi's lifelong enemy."_

_"I wouldn't say … enemy. Not like that."_

_She just tilted her head and kept going. "Second, Mr. Miyagi didn't have a sixteen-year-old daughter."_

_He actually scoffed at that. "What, Sam? Come on, Amanda. You've seen them together. They're just friends."_

_"Yes," she agreed. "They are. Very good friends. And I do happen to trust both of them, but I'm also not going to be blind to the possibility."_

_Daniel rolled his eyes and turned away._

_"And third, what about Robby's mother? I know he told her he was staying with friends for a while, and she was okay with it, but don't you think you should ask her before you just go moving her son in with us? I mean, she might have an opinion."_

_He openly sneered at the idea and pushed himself up from the bed. "Right. She's so involved in his life, so worried about where he goes and what he does that in the six months he's been part of our lives, we've never met the woman. She wasn't even at the tournament."_

_"That's not exactly fair, Daniel. Until a week ago, we thought he was eighteen. Meeting his mother wouldn't have made much sense, would it? Besides, how do you know he's not purposely keeping you and the karate and everything else a secret from her? He's pretty good at keeping secrets, remember?"_

_He spun around angrily. "How? How does she not notice that her sixteen-year-old son is gone more than he's home? How does she not notice him coming and going at all hours? Some days, he gets here at six in the morning. Some nights, he's here until midnight or later. We let him do it because we didn't know how young he is. She does. What is she paying attention to if she doesn't notice he's not there?"_

_"Daniel …"_

_He shook his head and sat back down on the bed. "He just … he needs someone, Amanda. I know he has a father, but no matter how much Johnny may want to play dad, he still chose Miguel when Robby needed him."_

_"You watched him try, Daniel. Robby literally told him to go away."_

_"And his mom, whatever is going on there, she's obviously too busy or distracted or whatever to be there for him. The friends he used to have, he doesn't want anything to do with, and they didn't care about him anyway. He's alone, and he needs someone."_

_Amanda smiled at him softly. "Who are you talking about, babe? Robby Keene? Or Daniel LaRusso?"_

_He dropped his head. He couldn't argue with that, either. Amanda moved across the bed and wrapped her arms around his shoulders._

_"He's a lost little boy looking for a father. You know something about that, don't you?"_

_He nodded silently._

_"And you want to be the one he finds, right?"_

_"Is it that obvious?" he asked softly._

_She nodded. "Oh, yeah."_

_"Is that bad?"_

_"No," she answered, kissing his cheek. "That's the Daniel LaRusso I fell in love with."_

She hadn't said no. She hadn't said yes, either, but he could live with it. At that moment, though, he needed to take care of the topic of his and Amanda's conversation, who was getting pretty close to thrashing around on the bed in front of him.

"Robby, hey. Wake up." It was something he'd done a hundred times for his own kids, a gentle touch on the arm, a shake of their shoulder, just enough to prod them into wakefulness. Neither Sam nor Anthony had ever responded by throwing a fist at his face, though. Grateful for the reflexes he still had even at forty-nine, Daniel pulled back and put his hands in the air, dodging the punch easily. "Easy," he said, watching Robby's face for a sign the storm was passing. "Take it easy."

Robby blinked, and the fear on his face gave way to shame. "Oh, God, Mr. LaRusso, I'm sorry! I didn't mean …"

Daniel shook his head and smiled. "It's okay." He shrugged nonchalantly, hoping to put Robby at ease. "Maybe one of these days, I'll figure out to stop grabbing your shoulder when you don't know I'm there." He gestured at the side of the bed, asking permission without saying a word. Robby nodded quickly and moved over, so he sat down on the edge of it. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Robby answered with a sigh. "Just a stupid dream, right? Nothing to be upset …" His voice faded away and his eyes glazed over. He was obviously having a hard time shaking the memory.

"You wanna talk about it?" Daniel offered softly. "It might help."

Robby shook his head silently.

Mindful of the fact that he might be starting to push, Daniel tried one last time. "Well, was it about your dad, or …?"

"No." Robby snapped the answer, turning away and staring at the wall before he dropped his head and closed his eyes again. "It wasn't him." His voice was shaking, and the for the first time, Daniel realized his hands were, too.

"Robby?" If Daniel had been concerned about the nightmares before, that concern had just escalated to full-blown worry. Robby wasn't just upset about the nightmare; he was terrified. Confident that Robby was conscious enough of his presence to avoid a repeat performance of the punch-throwing, Daniel reached out and put his hand on his arm. "Hey, what is it?"

"It was … um … it was about you." Daniel's eyes widened in surprise as the words tumbled out of Robby's mouth, faster and faster as he went. "You were hurt, and you couldn't stand up, and I couldn't … I tried, but I couldn't … and you were … then you were just … just laying there … and there was so much blood, and …"

"Hey, hey. Robby. Look at me." Daniel squeezed his arm until Robby finally turned toward him. "I'm right here, kiddo. I'm fine, see?" He held his arms out to his sides and smiled as widely as he could, despite the uneasy feeling that was starting to settle in the pit of his stomach. Robby was having nightmares about him?

It made too much sense. The one and only time Daniel had gotten mad at Robby, he'd thrown him away. He hadn't even given him a chance to explain. He'd fired him, thrown him out of the dojo, out of the house, out of his life, and slammed the door in his face while he was trying to apologize. Why wouldn't he be afraid that it might happen again?

That settled it. Robby was moving in. He'd make whatever excuses he needed to make to Amanda. He'd make whatever promises he needed to make to his mother. He'd deal with whatever he had to deal with from Johnny. He was never letting that kid walk out his door again.

"It was just a bad dream. Everything's fine." Robby nodded his head, slowly at first, then more confidently as he put the feelings and memories further behind him. "You okay?"

Robby gave him a shy smile. "Yeah," he said. An awkward laugh erupted from him as he ran his fingers through his hair. "That was kinda stupid, wasn't it? It was just a dream."

"Nah." Daniel answered him easily, standing up and looking down at him. "Nightmares can be kind of hard to shake. I had one once about me and Amanda fighting, over the dumbest thing. I swear, I was mad at her all day." Robby laughed again, and Daniel smiled. "It happens. But …" Finally seeing his chance to turn their conversation to what had brought him into the room at 5 am to begin with, Daniel took it. "Do you know what the best cure for a bad dream is?"

"I bet it's chores," Robby muttered.

Daniel smiled again. He loved it when he heard echoes of himself in Robby's voice. "Normally, yes, but today, no." Daniel tapped Robby on the shoulder one last time as he turned back to the door. "Today, it's fresh air, sunshine, and two days of peace and solitude in the woods."

Robby's whole face brightened as he remembered the weekend trip they'd been planning for the past two days. "Oh, yeah!" He threw the covers back, jumped out of bed, and reached for his clothes on the dresser. He paused as he looked at the t-shirt in his hands, and he half-turned to Daniel over his shoulder. He looked scared and nervous again. "Mr. LaRusso, did you, um, pack a first aid kit, maybe?"

Daniel nodded. He could imagine how he'd have reacted to having a dream about Mr. Miyagi being in a situation like the one Robby had described from his nightmare. He dismissed the boy's concerns with a wave of his hand. "I always keep one in the Q7, but I'll check it out and top it off, just in case. I'll even bring my knee brace. Amanda's always getting on me about not taking that with me when I go up there to train." He smiled. "We won't need any of it, but you're right. We'll be kind of isolated, and if anything does happen, it's better to be safe than sorry. It makes perfect sense."

The last of the tension drained out of Robby's shoulders, and he sighed. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Daniel pulled the door open, but he glanced back at Robby once more. "Hurry up and get ready. We've got an SUV to pack." He watched just long enough to make certain Robby was going to get dressed without any more problems, then he walked out, closing the door behind him.

* * *

Two hours later, the doorbell rang at the LaRusso home, echoing through the silence of the early Saturday morning.

"Who on Earth, at this time of day?" Amanda asked herself as she grabbed her coffee and headed for the front hall.

She pulled the door open, a smile of greeting on her face, and she froze. She hadn't been expecting anyone in particular, but he was definitely the last person she would have thought she'd see. She couldn't have been any more surprised if the pope himself had been standing there.

"Hey, Amanda."

Ripped jeans, red jacket, blond hair, blue eyes … blue eyes with such dark circles around them that they looked black. What in God's name could have landed him on her doorstep at seven in the morning?

"Good morning, Johnny." There was only one reason she could think of for him being there, excepting what he'd been there for the last time. And he didn't look angry. Upset, yes, but not angry. "Robby's not here, I'm afraid," she said.

He shook his head. "No. No, I'm not looking for Robby." He was distracted, but when he realized what she'd said, he jumped a bit in surprise. "Wait, why would Robby … is he …?" He shook his head, as if he wanted to ask the question, but didn't really want to hear the answer.. "Never mind." She expected him to turn and leave, but he didn't.

He looked around nervously. It was obvious he was there for a reason. Johnny Lawrence didn't just show up at their door. But whatever it was, he wasn't able to say it.

She lowered her eyebrows in confusion. "Then why _are_ you here?"

"Um …" He glanced around again, took a deep breath, and tried one more time. "I need to … I, um …"

She tilted her head slightly. "Johnny, are you okay?"

He swallowed, bit his lip, and turned those distraught, haunted, bruised-looking blue eyes on her. As soon as she saw them, she knew whatever had brought him to her door, it was important, and she needed to listen to him.

"Daniel," he finally said. "I need to talk to Daniel."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Johnny wanders, Daniel wonders, Robby freaks out, and Miguel finally makes an appearance (for a second).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the alpha/beta/bestie Switch842 and dream-beyond-the-fantasy, again, for all their amazing beta work. Also, thanks to TheEmpressAR for stepping in to pinch hit as beta on this chapter and offering to stick around going forward. 
> 
> You guys are the absolute greatest.

* * *

Johnny wandered up and down the aisles of the sporting goods store, pushing the big red cart and trying not to look as out of place as he felt.

He had no idea what he was looking for. He'd never been camping in his life. Robby had been right when he said he didn't know what a father/son trip looked like, and that was his fault. But the reality was Johnny didn't know, either. He'd never had a real father to take him on one, and God knew Sid never did. The closest he'd ever been to a camping trip was on an episode of _Eight is Enough_.

He was surrounded by people who could help him, but what kind of loser would he look like if he asked? What self-respecting fifty-year-old man needed help buying camping gear?

The more he thought about it, the more he started thinking the whole thing was a bad idea. He still hadn't asked Miguel if he wanted to go. He hadn't asked Carmen if he even could. And once they got there, what was he going to do? Was he going to be able to make himself ask LaRusso for help? And how was he going to talk him into doing it? He'd barely managed to convince Amanda.

_"He wanted to get away for a while, Johnny. I don't know what's going on between you and Daniel, and I don't need to know, but I'm not sure following him up there is the greatest idea you've ever had."_

She definitely had a point. It wasn't the best idea he'd ever had, but at that moment, it was the only one he could think of. He'd go alone if he had to, but he wanted Miguel to go, too. Not only because it might help convince LaRusso to help him with the kid if he was standing right in front of him, but also because he just really wanted to give him a couple of days off. Johnny had spent so much time worrying about how Miguel won that he hadn't even congratulated him on winning.

He knew firsthand how much it hurt to have the man who taught you everything you knew say you weren't good enough, had never been and never would be. He knew how much damage could be done by a sensei who responded with anger and violence instead of patience and understanding. And, no, he hadn't broken the trophy, and he'd never do to Miguel what Kreese had done to him, but the disappointment was still all Miguel had seen. He had to fix that.

He looked around, and he found himself standing in the fishing aisle. Fishing was good, wasn't it? Fathers and sons went fishing. Sam had said there was a lake near the spot she thought LaRusso usually set up camp, and lakes had fish in them.

"This is dumb," he muttered to himself. "It's never gonna work." Not knowing what else to do, he grabbed a couple of fishing poles and threw them in the cart.

He'd never caught a fish in his life. He'd never even tried. Something about worms and hooks and … it wasn't going to work. He had no idea what he was doing.

"Can I help you find something, sir?"

He'd done his best to avoid the earnest, eager-to-please teenagers, with their khaki pants and green shirts and red name tags, but he'd obviously failed. He probably looked like an easy mark, wandering around looking lost the way he was, and this particular kid, with his brown hair a little too long and his face a little too freckled, had zeroed in on it.

"No thanks," he said. "I'm fine." He tried to wave the kid – David, according to the tag on his shirt – off and turned away.

"Going fishing?" The kid was too eager to help, but the question still made him stop. He couldn't just walk away from him.

_'Jesus, he looks like …'_

Johnny took a deep breath, pushed the irritation down, and tried to smile. He was just a kid trying to do his job. It wasn't his fault he looked and sounded like someone Johnny was trying to avoid thinking about.

"Yeah," he answered reluctantly. "Camping. Taking my …" What was Miguel, anyway? What was the most accurate way to describe him? "My kid up to the mountains for the weekend."

"Oh, that's great!" The kid's enthusiasm was just too much. "So, you're looking to add to supplies you already have? Because if you're going camping, you're going to need a lot of supplies for two days."

Johnny closed his eyes. He was really trying, but he couldn't deal with it anymore. "Look, kid, I don't wanna be rude. But seriously, I just wanna get my stuff and go, okay? I don't wanna have some long talk about it, don't wanna listen to you try to sell me a bunch of stuff I don't need. I just wanna grab a couple sleeping bags, a cooler, maybe a few other things, and get outta here. Okay?"

"Oh, okay." The kid's whole face fell. Seriously, did selling camping equipment really mean that much to him? "Sorry to bother you, sir."

The kid actually dropped his head as he turned away, and Johnny sighed. How was he ever going to ask LaRusso for help that he wasn't going to want to give if he couldn't even ask someone who was offering?

"Hey, kid?" Johnny called after him, and he turned back around. Johnny smiled. "David," he said. "I guess I … I don't really know what I'm doing. So, if you're up for it, I guess I could, ya know, use some help. Probably a lot of it."

David smiled, and his whole face brightened. "I'd be glad to, sir. If you know what you're going to be doing, I can show you everything you'll need."

Forty-five minutes and almost $500.00 later, Johnny walked out of the store with two tents, two fishing poles, two sleeping bags, a huge cooler, hooks, plastic worms, and way more camping gadgets and fishing gizmos than he'd even known existed. His wallet was lighter, but so was his mood. As he started shoving everything into the back seat and trunk of the Challenger, he decided that maybe the whole asking for help thing wasn't as bad as he'd always thought it was. Maybe, sometimes, it was the best thing to do.

And maybe, just maybe, the next two days wouldn't turn out to be as big a nightmare as he'd been starting to think they would.

* * *

"Okay, here we are."

Daniel tipped his head, indicating to Robby that they should put everything down. The cooler they were carrying together went first, followed by the multiple bags, both tents and two camp chairs that were all slung across Daniel's back. Robby was trying to pull a duffel over his head one-handed, and Daniel turned toward him.

"Here, let me give you a hand with that."

"Yeah, sure," Robby said. "It's the only thing you let me carry. Why not help me take it off, too?" Daniel pulled the strap away and put the bag on the ground while Robby straightened his sling.

"Well?" Daniel asked with a smile as he stood, winced, and then leaned back to work the aches out of his lower spine. It had been a long time since he'd carried enough supplies for two days on his back, and he was quite a bit older than he'd been then. "What do you think?"

Robby looked around and shrugged. "What am I supposed to think?"

Daniel turned to face him, surprised and almost disheartened at the apparent disinterest.

Robby smiled, amused at Daniel's reaction. He'd clearly done that on purpose. "I think it's great, Mr. LaRusso. I really like it up here. Have you camped here before?"

The smile was a good start. There hadn't been very many on the drive up. Daniel smiled back and nodded in answer to the question.

"I found this clearing about ten years ago," he said, looking up at the trees that surrounded them. "It's just this perfect little circle of nothing. I've always wanted to bring the kids here, but Sam doesn't like camping, and Anthony won't go anywhere there's no wifi." He shrugged. Amanda told him Anthony's lack of interest in father/son activities was normal, but having had no father when he was Anthony's age, he wouldn't know. He'd have done anything and gone anywhere with his father, because it would have meant he was still there.

"I'm sure he will someday," Robby said. "When I was that age, I wouldn't do anything my dad …" He bit his lip and let the sentence trail off. The topic of fathers wasn't an easy one for either of them.

"We're not far from where we were last time," Daniel said, changing the subject quickly and pointing to a small path off to their left. "The lake's right through there. Hey, that reminds me, do you swim?"

Robby shrugged. "Not really. I mean, I can, but I don't very often. Why?"

"The water is really nice this time of year. It's still a little cold, but you won't freeze in it. And it's not warm yet, either." Daniel smiled. "Thought it might be nice to jump in after an afternoon of training."

"Training?" Robby rolled his eyes and groaned. After how awkward and uncomfortable their trip had been, it was nice to get a reminder of the teenage boy he was. "I thought you said rest and relaxation!"

"No, I'm pretty sure I said peace and solitude." He couldn't stop the grin he felt spreading across his face. "And that means training."

"Why?"

"Because we always train, Robby. You should know that by now."

"But, I'm hurt," Robby protested, holding up his left arm in its sling.

Daniel nodded slowly. "I know, and I've already planned around that. Although, I did watch you take it off and play basketball in the driveway with Sam for almost an hour last night."

Robby huffed in exasperation, and Daniel had to stop himself from laughing. Damn, the kid reminded him of himself. But just as Mr. Miyagi hadn't accepted that behavior from sixteen-year-old Daniel, forty-nine-year old Daniel couldn't accept it from Robby.

"Okay. Let's get our camp set up," he said, gesturing at the pile of supplies as he picked up one of the chairs. "You get the bags sorted out, and then we'll start putting up the tents. When we're done, we'll get changed and head down to the lake. It's a beautiful place to do kata."

"You gonna put me on the tree again?" Robby asked, unzipping the first of the bags.

"I guess that depends," Daniel answered. He pulled the bag off the chair, opened it, and set it down in the middle of the clearing, near where they would be building their fire pit. "How's your balance?"

"Wobbly," Robby said honestly. "I've only got one arm, ya know." He'd finished going through the second duffel and was moving on to the third. He opened it, scanned it quickly, and tossed it aside.

"Then I'm sure we'll pay the tree a visit or two." Daniel picked up the next chair and started to pull it out of its bag. He could hear Robby behind him, digging through their supplies at an increasingly rapid pace and starting to throw the bags around at a rather impressive rate for a kid who claimed he only had one working arm.

"Where's the first aid kit?!"

Daniel turned toward him again. "What?"

"The first aid kit!" He couldn't believe how quickly Robby's mood had shifted from frustrated to anxious. "It's not here. Your knee brace isn't, either. Did we bring them? They were in the SUV, weren't they?" He stood up straight, slapped his pockets and pulled out the keys. "I have to go look …"

"Robby." Daniel couldn't stand that the stricken look from earlier that morning had returned to his face so soon after it had left it. He put the chair on the ground and stepped forward. "Relax. They're here. They're in the Q7, just like I said they would be. I couldn't figure out how to carry everything in one trip, so I left them behind. It's only fifteen minutes back to where we parked, so …"

Robby turned toward the trail without another word. Daniel grabbed his shoulder and turned him back around, pleasantly surprised that he didn't have to duck a fist. "Hey, calm down."

"No," Robby said, shaking his head. "We need those. I need to …"

Daniel held his hands up in a placating gesture. "I'll go get them, okay? I was planning to go back for them anyway." He reached out, took the keys from Robby's hand, and patted his arm. "You stay here. Start working on the fire pit. The rocks I always use are just off to the side of the path to the lake."

"Mr. LaRusso …"

"It's fine. I'm the one who left them, so I'm the one who should go get them. You've got a camp to get set up." The more he talked, the wider and more panicked Robby's eyes grew.

What the hell was going on?

"I'll be gone for half an hour, tops. Fifteen minutes there, fifteen minutes back. If I'm gone any longer than that, or if anything happens while I'm gone, you call my cell, okay?"

"But …"

"No," Daniel said with a shake of his head. He leaned forward until Robby had no choice but to look at him. The haunted look in the green eyes bothered him, but he couldn't give in to it. "No 'buts.' Okay?"

Robby wanted to say no, and that was obvious. He wanted to keep fighting. He didn't want Daniel going down that trail alone. But he also knew his teacher had spoken, and if there was one thing Robby was getting good at, it was listening to his teacher.

"Robby."

"Okay," he finally relented. "I'll find the rocks. Just …"

"I'll be fine. I promise. I've been walking these trails alone for years. I won't get lost." He smiled, and he was almost proud of how hard Robby tried to return it. "I'll be back before you even notice I'm gone."

Daniel stepped past Robby and started down the trail. Outwardly, he pretended everything was fine, but inwardly, he had to force himself to ignore the fact that Robby was staring after him as he went. The comfort and ease they felt around each other had shattered again. All the progress Robby had made in the past ten minutes was destroyed because Daniel had left supplies they weren't even going to need in the car. That situation had escalated quickly, and there was nothing Daniel could have done to stop it.

_'What am I gonna do with this kid?'_

It was obvious the nightmare was still messing with Robby's head. Daniel had let him drive, in the hopes that having something else to concentrate on would break the last of the dream's hold on him, but it hadn't worked. He'd been shooting panicked glances at Daniel the whole time, almost like he was afraid he was going to disappear from the passenger seat. He hadn't mentioned it, thinking it best to let Robby wrestle his own imagination into submission. Add the outburst at finding the first aid kit and knee brace missing, and the near-panic attack he'd had at the thought of Daniel walking back to the car, and maybe he'd been wrong about that.

What could he have possibly seen in that nightmare that was so bad it was still scaring him? Robby was one of the strongest people Daniel had ever met, but for the past four hours, he'd been nervous, jumpy, and clingy. None of those were words Daniel would have ever associated with him, especially the last, but it was true. Robby was acting more like a toddler with separation anxiety than a sixteen-year-old boy, and he had been behaving that way from the moment he'd woken up. He couldn't stand to let Daniel out of his sight. It was so bad that Daniel was almost positive he was being followed.

There was a sound behind him, and he turned his head, expecting to see Robby standing there. But there was no one. There was nothing behind him but the trail and the trees.

He shook his head and turned back around. Trying to think of ways to get Robby's head back on straight was apparently making him start to lose his own, and that wasn't going to fix anything. All it was going to do was ruin their weekend.

What could he do to help Robby win a battle with his own mind? How did he teach him not to give into fear, the way Mr. Miyagi had taught him, when what he was afraid of wasn't even real? How could he help him?

_"When you feel life out of focus, always return to basic of life."_

He had to smile at the words. Mr. Miyagi still had a way of giving him the answers he needed.

Daniel had done it hundreds of times, when he'd felt himself or his life spinning out of control. He hadn't done it in years, but he couldn't deny that he probably needed it just as much as Robby did. Maybe, if he couldn't get Robby out of his own head, the answer was to take him deeper into it. It was worth a try. Reassuring him wasn't helping, and indulging him was only making things worse.

The hair on the back of his neck stood up, and he felt as if eyes were boring into his back right between his shoulder blades. He spun quickly. He'd already opened his mouth to say Robby's name when he realized that, just as before, there was no one there.

"This is getting ridiculous," he muttered as he turned and resumed his walk down the path.

He saw the roof of the SUV just ahead, through the trees, and he sped up his pace. He'd get the first aid kit, he'd get the damn knee brace, and he'd get back to Robby as quickly as he could. The sooner they got started, the better it would be for both of them. He'd get Robby straightened out, and hopefully, that would be the end of it. Neither of them could keep going like they were.

Their weekend on the mountain was supposed to be about balance and bonding, not fear and frustration.

He heard something else behind him, a soft, shrill call that almost sounded like laughter, but he shook his head and made himself ignore it. It was just the wind, or a bird, or some other perfectly normal sound of nature he usually wouldn't have even heard, let alone paid attention to. He was letting Robby's paranoia infect him, and he was on edge for absolutely no good reason. He'd checked twice, and he wasn't going to do it again. He knew there was nothing there. He'd tell himself that the whole way back to camp if he had to.

How was he supposed to teach Robby to focus if he couldn't even do it himself?

He rolled his shoulders, took a deep breath, and pressed the button on his key fob to unlock the doors. He tried to ignore the feeling of being watched, but the skin was starting to crawl up his back, and he couldn't shake it. Grateful there was no one there to witness his stupidity, he glanced across his shoulder as he leaned into the back seat of the SUV.

Nothing. No one.

Gritting his teeth at his own idiocy, he grabbed the first aid kit and knee brace from the floorboard angrily, slammed the door, and spun on his heel. He was stronger than that. He had to be. Robby needed him to be. He had fifteen minutes to get his bearings, and maybe less than that, as quickly as he was walking. The entire episode was ridiculous, and he felt like a fool. He had to regain control of his mind, and he had to do it soon.

If he didn't, that damn nightmare was going to drag him under, too.

* * *

After a much shorter, easier, and way less expensive stop at the grocery store, Johnny's brand new cooler was fully stocked with everything he could imagine needing for two days in the woods. Hot dogs, ketchup, mustard, Doritos, peanut butter and jelly, bread, marshmallows, candy bars, Pop Tarts, and Dr. Pepper. He bought the last because that Mr. Pibb stuff Miguel liked was actual crap, and he wanted to get the kid drinking some real soda.

And if he'd stopped at another store and bought some refreshments for himself that Miguel wasn't going to know about, what did it matter? He wasn't planning on spending the weekend drunk, but sometimes, certain situations called for a little liquid courage, and he knew himself well enough to know that he was walking into one.

He knocked on the apartment door softly, both wondering why he was nervous and pretending he wasn't. It was pretty late in the morning to be taking off for a camping trip, but he hadn't had much choice.

_"I'm not looking to pick a fight with the guy, Amanda. I promise. I just need to talk to him. That's all." She hadn't believed him, and that had been obvious. "It's important. I wouldn't be asking if it wasn't. Please. Where is he?"_

_She'd thought about it for a few seconds. He didn't know how or why, but he saw it on her face, the moment she decided to trust him. "He's in the mountains somewhere. That's all I know, I'm afraid. I've never gone with him, and I've never asked. That's his place." His heart sank in his chest, and he sighed._

_"Oh. Okay. Well, thanks anyway." He dropped his head and started to turn away._

_"But Sam knows." He stopped turning and looked back at her over his shoulder. "It's not far from where he trains. Let me … I'll go wake her up, okay? She can tell you where he is."_

It had taken Sam almost half an hour to stop trying to give him GPS thingies he didn't know what to do with and just describe some actual landmarks he could use to find his way. It had taken her another fifteen minutes to give him clear enough directions to keep him from getting lost. Then he'd gone to the store, spent way too much time and way too much money buying way too much stuff, and then driven back to Reseda Heights.

So he was showing up at Miguel's at 9:45 on a Saturday morning to take the kid on a spontaneous camping trip. Nothing weird about that at all.

It was Rosa who answered the door, and he smiled. Rosa liked him, and he knew it. Hoping to both maintain that and work it to his advantage, he did his best to greet her in her own language. "Bueno diaz, Rosa."

She smiled at him broadly, amused. "Buenos días, Johnny." She spoke the words slowly and clearly.

He felt himself blush at the obvious errors he'd made, and he looked down at his feet. "Right. Sorry about that." He'd have to get Miguel to actually teach him some Spanish before he tried that again. "Hey, is Carmen …" He lifted his head and smiled when he saw her standing behind her mother. "Buenos días, Carmen."

Unlike Rosa, who was looking at him fondly, apparently touched that he was making an effort, Carmen was almost laughing. "Good morning, Johnny." His cheeks were on fire. He'd just told himself he needed to learn what to say before he opened his mouth, and he'd gone and made himself look like an even bigger idiot, anyway. "What can I do for you?"

"Um, actually, I … well … I wanted … I mean, is …" He swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and tried again. "Can I take Miguel somewhere?"

The laugh fell from her face, and she blinked at him in silence. Rosa turned and walked into the living room, leaving them alone to talk, and Carmen stepped forward.

"I've been thinking about it, and I haven't really been the best sensei this week. I know. And I promised you I wouldn't do that again, and I'm really trying. But, I think maybe, if we leave the city, ya know? Just me and him. It'll give me a chance to talk to him, and then, we can finally get around to celebrating that win he pulled off. I haven't done that with him yet."

The blank look was replaced by an expression of deep disappointment. She took another step forward, leaned in, and said softly, "Do you think celebrating is the right word?"

"Um …" Okay, so she was upset about it, too. He didn't know if that made him feel better or worse. "I'm guessing no?"

He'd noticed the looks she'd been giving him for the past few days, but he'd been too wrapped up in his own problems to figure out what they meant. It was obvious she was proud of her son for what he'd done, for how far he'd come and how much he'd learned in the months since he'd been training, but underneath that, she also shared Johnny's concern and disappointment in how he'd achieved that victory. And now Johnny was standing in her door saying that behavior was worthy of rewarding. She was as worried as he was, about all the same things.

And she didn't even know about Kreese.

"I just, I wanna …" He glanced down at the floor again, then lifted his head and looked her straight in the eye. "I wanna help him, Carmen. Maybe he's a little lost right now, but everybody gets lost sometimes, don't they? I think it might, maybe, do him some good?"

She was openly skeptical, and it showed on her face. "You still haven't told me where you want to go."

"Camping," he answered quickly, gesturing back at the Challenger. It looked convincing, stacked to the windows with gear and food the way it was. "Up in the mountains. There's this place up there, with a lake, and I think maybe … I'd just really like to take him up there. Just for the weekend. We'd be back tomorrow, late in the afternoon or early evening?"

She finally started to look like she was considering it, but she wasn't convinced yet.

"I know he made … no. It wasn't him. It was me. I'm his teacher. His behavior on the mat is on me, and maybe I taught him some wrong things without meaning to, and I know I made a mistake, and I'm sorry. But I think I know how to fix it. Please."

She tipped her head slightly. "I don't know, Johnny."

"Carmen, please. Let me try. Let me help him. Please."

She stared into his eyes, and he felt like she was trying to read his soul. He guessed she liked what she saw, because she nodded her head firmly and turned to yell across her shoulder. "Miggy!" When he didn't answer her, she tried again. "Miggy!"

Miguel appeared at the end of the hallway, still in his shorts and rumpled t-shirt, his hair sticking up every-which-way. "What, Mom?"

"Get dressed." She turned back to Johnny and smiled. "You're going camping with Sensei Lawrence."

* * *

Daniel stepped back from the tent and dusted his hands off on his jeans. "And that's it," he announced. "We're done. Good job."

Robby's smile was genuine, and it made Daniel happy to see it. The last of his tension, which had been fading throughout the two hours they'd been working, evaporated. They looked around their camp, surveying the work they'd done, the fire pit Robby had built, and the tents they'd put up together. Their chairs were set up around the fire, their sleeping bags were laid out, their clothes were in their tents, and their food was safely packed away in Daniel's.

"Now what?" Robby asked, once more the excited kid he'd been when Daniel had first asked him if he wanted to go camping. "You want me to light the fire so we can make the hotdogs?"

"Not yet," Daniel said with a smile. "I want to show you something first. Follow me."

He turned and started down the trail toward the lake.

"Already?" Robby asked, with more than a touch of disappointment in his voice. "We don't even get lunch? Or a break?"

"Don't worry," he told him. "This isn't going to take long. And we're both going to feel a lot better when we're done."

Robby's confusion showed on his face. "What are we doing?"

He could have explained, but it would work better if he showed him. And before he showed him, he wanted to tell him the story. "There are a few big events in everyone's life that they look forward to. First date, first kiss, your senior prom … Everyone thinks about them, even the guys. Everyone wants them to be perfect, right?"

"I guess," Robby mumbled. "I'm not going to have a prom, so I don't really know."

"Oh, yes, you will," Daniel promised. "But that's a discussion for later." Robby looked slightly taken aback at the declaration, but Daniel wasn't ready to talk about Robby's school situation yet. "Anyway, these things are supposed to be highlights of your life. They're these big milestones that everyone has, and everyone wants to look back on them as good memories. I was no different."

Daniel turned around and started walking backwards, still talking. He was aware enough of his surroundings that he wasn't worried about tripping. "My senior prom started out fine, but by the end of it, my girlfriend had wrecked my car, _and_ she'd dumped me for another guy, and when I went home to cry to my mom about it, I found out we were moving to Fresno for the summer."

Robby winced in sympathy. "Ouch."

"Yeah. What was supposed to be the best night of my life became one of the worst in barely an hour. And I was a kid, I was sixteen, I thought the whole world was ending." He turned back around as they approached the shore. "So, of course, I go to the one person I know will understand everything about my teenage angst and drama. My sixty-year-old sensei."

Robby smiled. "Mr. Miyagi, right?"

"That's right. Mr. Miyagi. And, I'm standing there in his backyard, in my powder-blue tuxedo … don't laugh! It was the 80s. And I looked fantastic." He admired the effort Robby put into not laughing, and when he failed, Daniel laughed, too. They'd reached the lake, so Daniel stopped and turned to face him. "Okay, it was ridiculous," he admitted. "Word of advice – no matter how pretty she is or how much she begs, never wear powder-blue ruffles. But the point is, that morning, he showed me one of the simplest, but most important, things he ever taught me. He called it the basic of life. And I'm going to teach it to you."

The look on Robby's face changed from amusement to interest, and Daniel knew he'd made the right decision. Feeling confident in his teaching abilities for the first time since he'd woken up that morning, he pressed the palms of his hands together.

"He taught you to pray?"

Daniel smiled. "I asked him the same question, but no. Not praying. Breathing."

"Wait, he taught you to _breathe_?"

"He taught me to breathe _right_." Daniel closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. As he exhaled, he pushed his hands above his head. He inhaled again, and moved them back to his chest, then exhaled and pushed them straight out in front of him. Another inhale, and back to center.

He opened his eyes to Robby's slightly confused expression.

"Why don't you just do kata?"

Daniel smiled and let his arms fall to his sides. "This isn't about balance. It's simpler, more, well, basic. It's about focus. It's more immediate, and not as complicated, but it's pretty powerful. When all you're focused on is breathing, when you center your mind, everything around you changes. You can hear your own heart beating. You can feel the world around you sharper and clearer than you've ever felt before. It clears your mind, but it also puts you in touch with it in a way I can't really explain. Before long, you realize everything that's bothering you, or distracting you, or confusing you, is starting to make sense. You can take your life back when you feel like it's gotten out of your control." He motioned for Robby to move closer. "Come on. You try it. You'll see."

Robby slipped his sling off and let it hang at his side. He stood, facing Daniel, and pressed his hands together. Daniel closed his eyes again and concentrated, felt each breath moving in and out of his lungs, and let his arms move without conscious thought. Even after all those years without it, the movements were still comfortable and familiar. He knew Robby was watching him, just as he remembered watching Mr. Miyagi the first time. He could feel him studying Daniel's movements, comparing them to his own, making the adjustments he needed to compensate for not being able to fully extend his shoulder. Daniel knew the moment everything clicked into place, and he turned his thoughts inward when he heard Robby's breathing slow down and even out.

Daniel went deeper into his own mind and let go of the anger, frustration, and anxiety he'd allowed to take hold of him that morning. He could hear the wind blowing through the leaves around them, the squirrels chattering and the birds chirping. A wave of relaxation crashed into him, and he let it pull him under. The mountain and the lake appeared in perfect clarity in his mind's eye, and as his focus sharpened, so did the vision.

Then, suddenly, he became aware that somewhere close to them, something felt wrong. There was an empty place in the trees, with no movement and no sound. He concentrated on it, listening, breathing, and that hole in the birdsong began to change. It got darker, heavier. Scarier. Something was there, something that didn't belong. He tipped his head and tried to pinpoint exactly where and what it was.

He kept breathing, feeling his hands move, listening to his own exhales in concert with Robby's, and the evenness of the sound told him Robby hadn't felt it. He tried to pull back into his mind, reached for the peace he'd been so close to finding, but the hair on the back of his neck was standing up again. Something – someone – was staring at the middle of his back. He could feel it like a physical touch. He shook his head and kept going, tried to ignore it and stay focused, but the _wrongness_ of it only got stronger.

A stick snapped behind him. His eyes shot open, and he spun around, his hands raising instinctively to defend against the threat he expected to be standing there. The line between his mind and reality was still blurry, but the contrast was jarring. He blinked several times, not believing what he saw and half-thinking he hadn't opened his eyes at all.

It was only Robby's soft, "Dad?" from behind him that convinced him what – who – he was seeing was real.

"Hey, LaRusso," Johnny said. "What's up?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Johnny gets introspective, Daniel gets angry, Robby looks for balance, and Miguel looks for a fight.

"Johnny?"

Daniel still didn't quite believe who was standing in front of him. He glanced over at Robby, who looked just as shocked as he was, and then back at Johnny, who looked equally astonished.

Déjà vu.

Hoping the second surprise meeting between the three of them didn't end as badly as the first one had, Daniel shook his head and said the first thing that came to mind.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Johnny didn't answer him. He was staring at Robby, his eyes wide, and he looked like the proverbial deer in the headlights. Daniel thought back over the past week, and he realized it was the first time father and son had seen each other since Robby had forgiven him and walked away after the tournament. It would have been a difficult moment for both of them, no matter the circumstances. Johnny was a big boy and could take care of himself. Daniel's priority was Robby.

"Hey, Robby?" He kept his eyes on Johnny as he spoke, watching to make sure his anger didn't start boiling over. The guy had tried to shove him through a wall for even knowing Robby, and he'd threatened him for coaching him. How was he going to react to Daniel showing any kind of authority over him? "Why don't you head back to camp? I'm gonna talk to your dad for a minute. But I'll be right there."

Robby tore his eyes away from his father and nodded. "Sure thing, Mr. LaRusso."

He walked behind Daniel, choosing a route that took him as far from Johnny as possible, and started up the path, putting his arm back in the sling as he went. Johnny and Daniel both stood in silence and watched him go. Once he was out of sight, Daniel repeated his question, much more forcefully than before.

"What. The Hell. Are you doing here?"

Johnny turned to face him, with one of the fakest smiles Daniel had ever seen plastered on his face. "What? A guy can't go camping?"

"Camping?" Daniel asked. There was no way he was going to believe that. "You go camping?"

"Sure," Johnny answered dismissively. "All the time. Who doesn't?"

"Okay." He drew the word out and put every ounce of disbelief he was feeling into it. "You go camping 'all the time,' but Robby has never put up a tent before today. And you just happen to go camping 'all the time' in the exact same spot I do?"

"Nah," Johnny said, shaking his head. "First time I've been here."

"So, I'll ask again. What the hell ...?"

"I told you," Johnny interrupted. "I wanted to take Miguel camping, and this seemed like a good spot."

Daniel froze. "You brought Miguel?"

"Well, yeah. Why wouldn't I?"

Daniel clenched his teeth and pressed his lips together. "Oh, sure," he said, sarcasm dripping from every word. "Of course. You've never taken your son camping in his life, so, of course, you'd take the kid you let pound on his dislocated shoulder with you." He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead in frustration. He didn't want Robby to hate his father, and he'd been putting a lot of effort into convincing Robby to give him a chance, but Johnny wasn't making it easy. "That's ... I can't even put into words how screwed up that is."

"Hey!" Johnny's tone changed from falsely casual to defensive. "I didn't _let_ Miguel pound on Robby's shoulder. I told him not to."

"Yeah? Did he listen?" Daniel shook his head and waved his hand through the air. "Ya know what? It doesn't matter. You want to take Miguel camping? Fine. I'll go get Robby, and we'll pack up and just go." He turned and walked past Johnny, heading back to a campsite he'd considered his sanctuary for more than ten years but was almost certain he would never return to.

"Hey, LaRusso …" Johnny grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.

Daniel's hands came up again, though he didn't know if it was anger or surprise or an actual perceived threat that made him raise them.

Johnny glanced down at Daniel's clenched fists, dropped his own hands to his sides, and took one step back. "I'll give you the first one," he said. "Because you were meditating or whatever and didn't know I was here, and I'm gonna ignore this one."

Johnny's face hardened. In Daniel's mind, the past thirty-four years fell away, and he was fifteen again. Instead of standing next to a lake in the woods, he was backed up against a fence in an empty lot behind his apartment building. The Johnny Lawrence he remembered from that fateful Halloween was standing in front of him, staring him down. When he spoke, his voice was just as hard as it had been that night.

"But you throw those up at me again, and I'm gonna take you up on it."

A sudden urge to accept Johnny's challenge flashed through Daniel's mind, but he shoved it back down just as quickly. His and Robby's weekend had already been ruined, and between the nightmare and Johnny and Miguel both showing up, Robby was going to be upset enough as it was. The last thing the kid needed was to watch his teacher and his father beat the crap out of each other. He took a deep breath, relaxed his fists, and let his hands fall.

"Look, LaRusso, that ..." Johnny's face softened, and he sounded almost apologetic. "I didn't come up here to fight with you, man. You don't need to leave."

Daniel huffed out a breath. "Why _did_ you come up here?"

"I already told you."

"Right. That's right." Daniel nodded and gestured at Johnny with his hand. "You just came up here to go camping. And if you think I'm gonna believe that, you're nuts."

Johnny didn't answer him.

"Who's following who around now, huh? I mean, you've been here a while, haven't you? Did you have fun, skulking around in the woods and messing with my head like that?"

"What? No!" That wasn't defensiveness. That was honest confusion. "I haven't been ... I just got here. What are you talking about? Who's following you around and messing with your head? What's going on?"

"Nothing," Daniel said, shaking his head. Johnny's sudden appearance had made the weirdness he'd felt on his way to the car and again while doing the breathing exercise make sense. If it wasn't him, then what was it? "Never mind. But, since you still won't tell me why you're here or how you found us, then ..."

"Amanda and Sam told me." The sudden admission was unexpected, and Daniel didn't want to believe it, but the look in Johnny's eyes said he wasn't lying.

"Why would they do that?"

"Because I asked them?" Johnny shrugged. "But, I thought you were by yourself. I didn't know Robby was here. If I'd known, I probably wouldn't have come. And even if I did, I definitely wouldn't have brought Miguel."

Daniel stared at Johnny in stunned silence.

Johnny looked down at the ground, then back up at him. "Look, I ... I only came to talk to you. To ask you something." He rolled his shoulders, glanced over at the lake and then back at the ground. He obviously didn't want to say whatever it was he'd come to say. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and looked Daniel in the eye. "I know this sounds weird, man, but I need … help." He blew the breath out through his teeth. "I need your help."

Those were words Daniel had never imagined he'd hear Johnny Lawrence say to him. "You need what?"

"Don't make me say it again." It was part plea, part command.

Daniel tilted his head in confusion. He opened his mouth to ask for clarification, but he never got the chance. The sound of raised, angry voices behind him cut him off.

"Robby." Daniel turned and was running back up the trail before he realized what he was doing.

"That was fast," Johnny said from right behind him.

It took them barely a minute to reach the edge of the campsite. As they cleared the trees, they were greeted by the sight of Robby and Miguel standing next to the fire pit, face-to-face, only inches apart.

"If you hadn't shown up, none of it would've happened!"

"It wouldn't have happened if you weren't being a drunk asshole, either."

Miguel pulled his fist back, moving into his fighting position. "I was aiming for you, not her."

Robby kept his left arm, in its sling, tight against his body, but raised his right hand as he assumed a defensive posture. "Well, she's not in your way this time, is she?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Daniel rushed forward, put one hand on Robby's chest, and pushed him back. "That's enough."

Johnny moved toward Miguel at the same time, put his left arm between them, grabbed Miguel by the shoulders, and pulled him away. "What the hell, man?"

Daniel and Johnny glanced at each other, and Daniel rolled his eyes. Then, he leaned closer to Robby, keeping his hand on him to hold him back. "Enough."

"But …"

Daniel just shook his head. Robby looked at Miguel and Johnny over Daniel's shoulder, then he turned his head toward Daniel and nodded.

"We need firewood." Daniel dropped his hand, stepped back, and motioned for Robby to walk ahead of him into the woods across from the path to the lake. "Come on. Let's go find some."

Robby did as he was told, albeit slowly and reluctantly. Before they disappeared behind the trees, Daniel shot Johnny one last look across his shoulder.

_'Stay. We'll talk. This is going fucking great so far.'_

* * *

As soon as LaRusso and Robby were out of sight, Johnny smacked Miguel in the back of the head. "What the hell was that?"

Miguel was pissed. His eyes were hard, his body was tense, and his jaw was clenched. Johnny had thought Miguel's behavior at the tournament had come from his own need to beat LaRusso at any cost. But he wasn't pissed at LaRusso; he was pissed at Robby. And they'd been talking like they had history outside the tournament. Was Robby more to Miguel than just LaRusso's student? Did they actually know each other?

He realized Miguel had no idea Robby was his son, because he'd never told him. Maybe it was time to stop guarding that little secret and share it with the one person who really needed to know.

Miguel's anger fell away, and when he turned toward Johnny, there was nothing but pain on his face. "Do you remember what you told me about the LaRussos, Sensei?" he asked, and Johnny nodded slowly. "He stole your girl, kept picking fights with you, and took away everything you cared about? Do you remember how you told me not to trust them?"

Johnny nodded again. "You're leaving some stuff out, but, yeah. What does that have to do with Robby?"

Tears were starting to well in Miguel's eyes, and Johnny looked back at the trees Robby and LaRusso had disappeared behind. He didn't deal well with emotions on a good day, and crying teenage boys knocked him completely off his game.

"I guess the apples don't fall far from the tree," Miguel said. The bitterness in his voice was something Johnny recognized immediately. He'd been hearing it from himself for more than thirty years. "His daughter and his student are both just like him."

Johnny had a terrible feeling that their already complicated situation was about to get a thousand times worse.

"Sam dumped me."

He'd known that much. A blind man could have seen it, the way he'd kept shooting glances at her at the tournament, the way she'd kept turning away.

"She brought another guy to this party we were having, and ..."

Johnny's heart dropped into his stomach. He knew where the story was going, and he didn't want to hear the end of it. He didn't need to hear the end of it, did he? He'd lived it with LaRusso and Ali.

"They were holding hands, and laughing, and I couldn't. I just couldn't. I ..."

He'd only wanted Miguel to be careful. He'd only wanted him to keep his eyes open. He hadn't wanted to be right.

"Who was the other guy?" Johnny didn't really need to ask, because he already knew the answer. But he figured it was probably best if he let Miguel say it. It would explain Miguel's sudden personality shift, and he could tell LaRusso about it when he finally got a chance to talk to him.

If he ever did. At that point, depending on what he and Robby were talking about out there, LaRusso was most likely either going to come back, take Robby and leave, like he'd said he was going to do, or he was going to come back and bodily throw him and Miguel both off the damn mountain.

And the way things were going, Johnny was starting to think maybe he couldn't really blame him if he did.

Miguel turned slightly, looking off into the woods just like Johnny was doing, but his expression and Johnny's couldn't have been any different. The tears disappeared, the muscles in his jaw twitched, and the pain was replaced by the most intense anger and hatred Johnny had seen in a long time. It was like looking in a mirror and seeing himself at seventeen.

"Robby Keene," Miguel spat out, "is my Daniel LaRusso."

_'Well. Fuck.'_

* * *

"I'm guessing that was about Sam."

Robby nodded, but he didn't stop walking or turn around.

"Do you feel better now, or …?"

"No, I don't."

Daniel kept following him, giving him the space and time he needed to work out whatever aggression he might still have pent up in there. "Think you'd feel better if you'd hit him?"

"Yes!" Robby snapped, but he was shaking his head. "No. Maybe? I don't know." He stopped suddenly and spun around. "Why is he here?" he demanded. There was no anger on his face, but there was frustration. "Why are _they_ here?"

Daniel sighed. "Your dad needs to talk to me about something."

"And it couldn't wait until Monday?"

"I guess not. I don't know. He never got a chance to tell me exactly what it is." Daniel shrugged and shook his head. "Look, Robby …"

"Can't we just go home?" Robby's voice echoed the frustration on his face. "Can't we just go home and forget this whole thing?"

It was a sentiment Daniel knew and remembered all-too-well. He'd been prepared to do exactly that five minutes earlier, and he'd wanted nothing more when he was fifteen. But just like palm trees, running away never solved anything.

"We can," he answered carefully. "If that's what you really want to do. But this?" He gestured from himself to Robby, then back toward the campsite. "It's not just going to go away."

Robby's shoulders fell, and he slumped down on a fallen tree. "Gonna have to deal with them sometime, right?"

Daniel walked over and sat next to him. "Not just you, ya know." He leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. "Your dad and I still have our stuff to figure out, and who knows how long that's gonna take. I've got a big problem with Miguel right now over what he did to Sam, accident or not. You've got your dad to deal with, your stuff with Miguel over what he did to you last weekend, over Sam, _and_ over your dad, and … I'm sure Miguel's got his own issues with the two of us, too. It's a huge mess. For all of us. And we really need to work on getting past it. I don't know if we'll all ever get along, but we'll be so much happier if we can at least stop thinking we all hate each other."

"Do you hate my dad?" It was a question Robby had never asked him before, but it was one he'd asked himself quite a few times in the past ten months.

"No," he answered honestly. "I don't. He aggravates me. He pisses me off. And I hate everything Cobra Kai is and stands for. But I don't hate _him_. I haven't in a long, long time … if I ever really did."

"Then why does he hate you?"

Daniel's answer was a shrug. "You'd have to ask him. I'd be guessing. He's the only one who knows the answer."

Robby mirrored Daniel's position and looked down at the ground. "How are we supposed to find balance like this? Every time I feel like I'm getting close, something or someone comes around and knocks me over."

A snap in the woods behind them made Daniel turn his head, but he turned back just as quickly. He needed to stop jumping every time some animal walked through the underbrush.

"Well, barring some world-shattering apocalypse we all end up on the same side of …" Robby laughed, and Daniel smiled. "Mr. Miyagi used to say that you had to learn to walk before you learn to fly. Maybe our problem is that we all just learned to fly too fast, and we need to come back down. Maybe we just need to learn to walk again."

"Feet on the ground," Robby said softly.

"Put one foot in front of the other. Exactly."

Another twig snapped. Louder. Closer. Daniel rolled his shoulders to shake off the returning sensation of eyes on his back, and he stood up. "And we need to walk right now," he said, as nonchalantly as he could manage. "We can pick up some sticks and small branches on the way, so it doesn't look like I was just making up an excuse to get you away from Miguel. But we do need to head back. If we're gonna clean this mess up, we may as well start now."

Robby stood, wiped his hand on his jeans, straightened his sling, and stepped past him. "Do you really think this is gonna work?"

A third stick snapped, followed by a rustling of dried leaves, and Daniel turned toward the sounds. "Ask me again after I talk to your dad," he answered distractedly. He narrowed his eyes as he looked into the darkness between the trees. There was still nothing there. He shook his head.

"Mr. LaRusso?" Robby's voice sounded further away than it should have been.

Daniel snapped his head around to find that Robby had continued walking while he'd been staring at the nothing in the woods, and he'd gotten quite a way ahead of him. "Right behind you!" he called out. He spun quickly and jogged to catch up.

He didn't look back again.

* * *

"Look, man, I get it. I do. But you gotta cool it for now."

"Sensei ..."

"I've got something I need to work out with LaRusso. It's important." How could he put it in terms Miguel would understand without telling him what it was? "It's more important than getting the dojo unbanned from the tournament was. Remember how you told me to do that?"

Miguel nodded. "Delicately."

"Yeah, well, you and I both know we're not that. And I don't need you to be delicate. I just need you to be less ... violent."

"But ..."

He put his hand on Miguel's shoulder, hoping the touch would ground him. The kid looked like he wanted to murder something. Someone. Robby. Johnny's own son.

_'I made him hate Robby. I did this.'_

He really needed to tell Miguel who Robby was, but he had to wait for the right time. Telling him at that moment wouldn't do anything but set Miguel off again.

"No. No 'buts' this time. You are going to do what I tell you, do you understand?" Miguel ground his teeth together and glared, but he didn't answer him. "Do you understand me, Mr. Diaz?"

"Yes, Sensei!" Miguel snapped.

"I need to do this. And I can't if I'm worried that you're going to start shit with Robby the second we walk out of this clearing. I don't care how you do it. Do the 'make a fist but don't actually punch him' thing. Take a walk. Put your headphones in. Whatever you need to do. But you keep it in check. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Sensei." His voice was quieter, more reserved.

"Alright then." The snapping of twigs and the rustling of leaves announced LaRusso and Robby's return before he could see them. "I'm gonna hold you to it, Miguel," he said softly. "Don't let me down."

"I won't."

Robby appeared first, with his right hand full of twigs. LaRusso was right behind him, his arms full of larger sticks and small branches, with a ... smile on his face?

"I'm hungry," LaRusso said. "Who's up for some hot dogs?"

* * *

An hour passed, largely in silence but in relative calm. Hot dogs were eaten, Dr. Pepper and Coke washed them down, and Johnny even handed out candy bars for dessert. Robby and Miguel were both doing a rather admirable job of keeping their tempers under control. It was a long way from the work they needed to do to resolve the root causes of their anger, but at least they weren't trying to kill each other on sight anymore.

Daniel would take any progress he could get.

If the boys were able to tolerate each other for an hour with supervision, then there was hope they'd manage to do it for however long they'd be without it.

Robby and Miguel were tackling their issues. It was time he and Johnny faced theirs.

Daniel stood up from his chair and looked across at Johnny, who was sitting on a large rock they'd found just outside the clearing and moved close to the fire. There was no reason to pretend they were going into the woods for any reason other than what they were going for. Robby already knew what was about to happen, and from the way he looked back and forth between Daniel and Johnny, it seemed that Miguel did, too.

Daniel jerked his head toward the woods, turned, and walked back the way he and Robby had gone earlier. He didn't check to make sure Johnny was following him, but the footsteps he heard behind him that told him he was.

They walked in silence for a few moments, until Daniel thought they were far enough away that the boys wouldn't be able to hear what they said.

"You know they're us, right?" It was an abrupt start to the conversation, and he had no idea if it had any bearing on what Johnny needed help with, but it was something they needed to acknowledge to each other.

"Yeah," Johnny answered. "I know."

"Who saw that coming, huh?"

Johnny snorted. "Anyone with a pulse."

Daniel couldn't stop the chuckle, even though laughing was the last thing he really felt like doing at that moment. "Yeah. Except us, apparently."

"Well, it wasn't exactly part of the plan, was it?" Johnny asked. "But, yeah."

"You had a plan?"

Johnny smirked. "No, not really."

They'd reached the fallen tree he and Robby had talked on, and Daniel stopped. He turned toward Johnny and motioned for him to sit, but Daniel remained standing. He didn't want to seem superior, and it wasn't that he wanted to dominate the conversation. But his mind and body were too restless to sit down, and he knew himself well enough to know it was only going to get worse if he did.

Johnny took a seat on the tree, leaned his elbows on his knees, and looked up. "So," he said. "Now what?"

"This is your conversation," Daniel said. "You called this meeting, in a manner of speaking. So you take the lead."

"Oh." Johnny looked surprised, confused, and not the least bit prepared.

Daniel sighed and tipped his open hands toward him. "What do you need, Johnny?"

"Oh, um ..." Johnny was back to stuttering, darting glances around, and avoiding doing what he'd driven all the way out from the Valley to do.

"Oh, for God's sake, skip the word," Daniel said, dropping his hands to his sides. "You already said it. You need my help. Fine. With what? What do you want me to do?"

"Save Miguel." Johnny blurted it out, and he looked shocked that the words had left his mouth.

Daniel blinked slowly. He didn't know what he'd been expecting Johnny to ask for, but it hadn't been that.

"What?"

"Miguel, I'm … he's changed, and I …" He sighed and tried again. "You should have met him six months ago, LaRusso. You'd've liked him."

Daniel crossed his arms and snorted his opinion on that.

"No, you would have. He was a sweet kid. Weird. Kinda dorky, like you. Always talking about everyone's equal and telling me to be nice to people and spouting off all that same nonsense you do." Daniel bristled at that, but Johnny didn't seem to notice. "And I thought that by teaching him to ..." Johnny broke off and stared off into the distance for a few seconds. Then he looked up at Daniel, who had started pacing back and forth in front of him, and kept going.

"What you said, about them being us, that's true. But the weird thing is, when I met Miguel, he wasn't anything like me. When I met him, he was _you_. Right down to the getting his ass kicked by a bunch of assholes thing."

Daniel's eyes widened in surprise.

"I turned him into me. And I thought that was great, ya know? But, at the tournament, I saw him, and I heard him, and when he threw that elbow to Robby's shoulder, all I could think of was me dropping that elbow on your knee, and..." He dropped his head into his hands and ran his fingers through his hair, agitated. "I can't let that happen again. I can't let him end up the way I did. I need you to fix him."

Daniel was speechless. He stood there, mouth open, and for the first time in recent memory, he had absolutely no idea what to say.

"And I know you can do it." Johnny's words were coming out faster, stronger, as he finally gathered his thoughts together enough to express them. "Because you did it for Robby. I know you may not know it, because I bet when you met him, he put on this great show of being this wonderful kid, but that boy was me. To his bones. Trust me. He was into drugs, he'd quit school, he had these two morons he ran around with doing all kinds of shit no sixteen-year-old should be doing. And you ... without even knowing he was like that, you fixed him. You saved him. Just like I turned Miguel into me, you turned Robby into you, and it worked."

Daniel still didn't know what to say. Johnny had never said that many words to him at one time, and he was having trouble processing them all.

"So, I need you to save Miguel for me. I need you to turn him back into you, like he used to be. And that's what I came to ask." Johnny slapped his hands down on his thighs as he finished, then he looked up at Daniel to watch his reaction.

Daniel sighed, stopped pacing, and tried to figure out what he was feeling at that moment. Surprise at the request, certainly. Shock that Johnny seemed to be admitting he was out of his element when it came to kids, that he had no idea how to be a teacher and role model. Slightly flattered that Johnny thought he was some kind of miracle worker, but also ... angry. The more he thought about it, the angrier he got.

Bringing Robby into it had been a guaranteed way to trigger Daniel's feelings of responsibility and protectiveness, and Johnny knew that. He'd played it perfectly, and he'd twisted those things around to make him feel the same way about Miguel.

Daniel didn't like it when people used his own emotions against him like that. It pissed him off.

"First, you're wrong about Robby. I didn't turn him into me. I taught him how to be himself." His paternal instincts kicked in, and for once, he didn't hold them back to spare Johnny's feelings. "You're right. I don't know what he was doing before he started working for me, and honestly, I don't care. Because no matter what it was, no matter how bad you think it was, it wasn't him. He never wanted to be those things, Johnny. He never wanted to be that person. He just never had anyone to show him how to be anything else. That's what happens to sons whose fathers walk out on them."

All the blood drained from Johnny's face, and he looked like he'd just been punched in the gut. It clearly wasn't the answer he'd been expecting, but he was the one who'd decided to use Daniel's emotions as a weapon, and he was just going to have to deal with the fact that it had backfired on him.

"All he ever needed was someone to give a shit about him." Daniel was walking back and forth again, swinging his arms wildly, and he had no idea what words were going to come out of his mouth until they did. "You say he was you? Well, he probably still is, because he's your son, and that's how it works. But he's not me. If anything, he's what you would have been if you'd had Mr. Miyagi for a sensei instead of Kreese. Maybe. I don't know if you've ever had it in you to be the kind of person Robby's becoming."

Where had that come from? Maybe he'd been wrong when he told Robby he didn't hate Johnny. Hell, maybe he'd been wrong when he told himself the same thing.

"When I said they were us, I didn't mean literally. They're just like us, yeah, and they're repeating every mistake we made when we were kids, everything we did to and felt about each other. But they're not _us_. Robby isn't me, and Miguel isn't you."

"LaRusso ..."

"And now you want me to 'save' Miguel? From what? From who? From you? From himself? I mean, have you stopped to think that maybe you didn't turn him into anything? Maybe that's who and what he was all along. Maybe you just showed him how to be the asshole he always wanted to be but never could."

Part of him knew that wasn't true. Sam had really liked Miguel, so he had to have been a good kid at some point. But they were talking about a person who'd hurt someone Daniel loved more than life itself. The kid had hit his _daughter_. And Johnny expected him to save him?

"Hey, come on ..."

"Why is this so important to you now?" he asked with more than a little heat in his voice. "You didn't give a damn a week ago, when he was trying to yank your son's arm off and hitting my daughter in the face. Why do you care what kind of person he is now?"

Johnny flinched as if he'd been smacked, and Daniel almost felt bad for the way he'd been talking. He watched a dozen different emotions flash across the man's face, but when it settled on anger, any remorse Daniel may have felt vanished. "That's bullshit!" he snapped, jumping to his feet. "Miguel would never hit Sam!"

Daniel tipped his head. "Oh, but he did," he insisted. "If you don't believe me, ask Sam. Ask Robby. Hell, you probably wouldn't believe either of them, so why don't you just ask Miguel? I'm sure he'll tell you the truth."

The anger fell from Johnny's face as quickly as it had appeared. He slumped back down on the tree again, and he looked at the ground. "How?" He sounded lost, and Daniel was finding himself increasingly confused by how upset he seemed to be about everything. "I mean, why would he do that?"

Daniel shrugged. "Apparently, he was drunk." Unable to resist the urge to twist the knife, he added, "I have no idea who he could have picked that habit up from."

Johnny lifted his head, and the look in his eyes, a combination of desperation, pain and fear, made him regret the words immediately. Not only the words he'd just said, but all of them. He'd let his temper run off with his mouth again, and that never ended well. He closed his eyes and sighed.

He hated Cobra Kai. He hated the violence. He hated everything about the situations they kept finding themselves in. He hated that the boys were going through all the same shit he and Johnny had gone through and making all the same mistakes they'd made.

He didn't hate Johnny. He never had.

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

"For what?" Johnny asked with a shrug. "Being right?"

Daniel blinked in surprise. He'd heard a lot of things that day he'd never expected Johnny to say, but that had to be the top of the list. "What?"

"You're right," Johnny insisted. "About everything. About me. About Cobra Kai. About … about what I did to Robby, and what I've been doing to my kids." He ran his hands through his hair, and he looked so close to crying that Daniel barely recognized him. "I didn't mean to. I thought I could be better than he was. I thought I could do it right. But the whole thing, it's just … it's broken." Johnny shook his head and looked down again. "I didn't realize how broken it was until Miguel opened his mouth and Kreese's words came out."

"Johnny …"

"What you said down by the lake, you were right about that, too. I didn't stop Miguel. I told him to stop, and he refused, and I didn't make him. I knew what he was going to do. I should have pulled him off the mat right there. But I didn't. I wanted to win, wanted to beat you so bad, that I …" His voice was growing softer with every word. "I did let him hurt Robby. I could have stopped the whole thing, but I didn't. I just stood there and watched it happen. And I didn't do a damn thing."

Daniel didn't know what to do with that. He didn't know how to react to it. His first instinct, as always, was to think it was a trick or a mind game of some kind, but it wasn't. The pain in Johnny's eyes was too raw and too real.

"And, now I'm gonna lose them. I'm gonna lose my kids. It's my own damn fault. I taught them to be what he wanted me to be, and now he's back, and he's gonna …"

Daniel's heart stopped. "Wait. Johnny, who … who's back?"

"Kreese."

Pain. Anger. Fear. Isolation. Helplessness. Desperation. Rage. Terror.

Every emotion Daniel had felt, every emotion he'd pushed down and held down since 1985, erupted at the mention of that name. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. He could barely see. He couldn't stand up anymore.

His knees buckled, and he dropped to the tree at Johnny's side. Johnny's hand was suddenly on his shoulder, and it was the only thing keeping him from falling over.

"Hey!" Johnny was shocked, and it was evident in his voice and on his face. "What's wrong? You okay?"

"You said he was dead!"

"I thought he was." Johnny pulled his hand back. "I really did. But he walked into the dojo the night of the tournament. I didn't know what do or what to say or …"

"Why didn't you tell me?!"

Confusion joined the other emotions on Johnny's face. "Why would I?" he asked sincerely. "He was _my_ sensei. I'm the one he tried to kill. Sure, he had Bobby take you out and screw your leg up, but he wasn't anything to you. Was he?"

Daniel had to keep reminding himself that Johnny had no idea what happened after he left Cobra Kai. He hadn't been there for it, and Daniel had never told him. "There's so much you don't know, Johnny. So much bad shit."

"Like what?"

"Like this isn't the first time he's faked his death." A thought occurred to him, and he closed his eyes. "God, I hope Terry's still dead. And Mike, if he …"

"LaRusso, what are you talking about?"

"It's a long story," he answered, shaking his head. It was also a story he'd never shared with anyone, not even Amanda. Only Mr. Miyagi had known the whole truth. "I'll tell you. I'll tell you everything. Just, for now, know that you're not the only one of us who's ever worn that damn snake on your back. And know that I will do anything – anything – to save those kids from going through what I went through."

"You'll help me?" Johnny seemed surprised, and after Daniel's initial reaction, how could he not be? But faced with the prospect of John Kreese's karate rising again in the Valley, of Miguel, and Aisha, and all those other kids falling under his spell, what else could he say?

"Yes," he answered. "John Kreese will not take those kids away from you. I'll stop him or die trying. I swear."

Johnny was still staring at him, and of all the emotions he'd shown in the past few minutes, the concern and anger that filled his eyes was the most powerful Daniel had seen.

"God, Daniel. What did they do to you?"

Daniel turned to face him, certain that he and Johnny were finally on the same page, and for the first time in thirty-three years, he was ready to tell someone the whole story.

A sound Daniel could neither identify nor describe erupted from the trees behind them. Before either of them could react, a branch slammed into the side of Johnny's head. He fell forward bonelessly and hit the ground, blood oozing from a gash above his left eye, out cold.

"What the fuck?!" Daniel jumped to his feet, spun around … and froze.

He was staring straight into a face he hadn't seen in more than three decades. It had aged, just as his and Johnny's had, but he still recognized it. His breath caught in his throat, his heart tried to pound its way out of his chest, and his head spun. That face had terrorized him for months, messed with his head in ways he'd never recovered from, and very nearly cost him everything, including Mr. Miyagi. He'd tormented him, beaten him, threatened him, and perhaps the worst thing, scared him so badly that he'd almost lost himself to the fear.

It was apparently the theme of the weekend, and it was his turn. Awake or not, he was staring right into the face of the nightmare that had been haunting him for more than thirty years.

"You," he hissed.

The man smiled, but it was the furthest thing from friendly Daniel had seen in a long time.

"Well, hello there, Daniel!"


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Johnny takes a nap, Daniel plays a game, Robby makes a decision, and Miguel learns something new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a canon racial slur in this chapter

* * *

"Mike."

It took every ounce of courage and strength he could summon just to force the name past his lips. Part of him wanted to believe it was a nightmare, and as long as he refused to give into it, he would wake up, safe in his bed with Amanda at his side. He closed his eyes and grit his teeth, forcing the fear down. It was a nightmare, but it wasn't a dream.

It was real. Mike Barnes was standing in front of him, and he was very, very real.

Of all the emotions screaming in his head, anger and fear were the loudest. And, as had become too common in his life the past few years, it was anger that took control of his mouth.

"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded. He turned toward Johnny with the intention of kneeling down to check on him. "You can't just …!"

"Ah, ah, ah." Mike's right hand slipped into the pocket of his jacket.

Daniel froze.

"Good boy." Mike raised his eyebrows, tipped his head, and grinned. "Hey, you wanna talk? Let's catch up. How've you been? How's the wife and kids?"

Daniel narrowed his eyes and glared at him. He wanted to move, and he needed to make sure Johnny was okay, but the possibility of a threat was enough to hold him still.

_'You haven't seen a gun, LaRusso. You don't know he has one.'_

He was going to ignore the fact that the voice in his head sounded a hell of a lot like Johnny Lawrence.

_'I don't know he doesn't. That's the problem.'_

"You can tell me all about how you became a rich Porsche salesman, and I can tell you how I became, well … remember when I beat you up for money, Daniel, and I was just a kid? What do you think I do for a living as a man?"

He didn't want to answer that question. He didn't want Mike to answer it, either.

"So, whatever you're thinking over there, whatever you're wondering, ask yourself: would I come into this unprepared? What do you think happens if you piss me off?" He held his hand, still in the jacket, out toward Johnny's head. "Do you want your buddy there to find out?"

Daniel shook his head, slowly and carefully, and backed up.

"Very good." Mike walked forward, swinging the branch like a pendulum in front of him. "You won't do that again, will you?" He kept his hand in his pocket as he moved closer, but he stayed on the other side of the tree.

_'Come on, LaRusso. You can take this guy.'_

_'Not from over here I can't. And not if he's got a gun.'_

"Do you want to play a game, Daniel? I like games, don't you? Let's play a game."

He remembered Mike's games all-too-well. He'd spent most of his life trying to recover from them, and there was no way he was going to let himself get sucked into another one. He glanced down at Johnny. He hadn't moved since he'd hit the ground. Was that normal? What grade of concussion did that make it? How badly hurt was he?

"Look, Mike, I don't know what you're doing here, or what you want, and I don't care. But this isn't a fucking game."

"Isn't it?" Mike laughed, and the sound of it made every hair on Daniel's back and arms stand up. "Come on, Daniel. Of course it's a game! The only question is … which game are we going to play?"

Mike started walking back and forth, his right hand still in his pocket, still swinging the branch with his left, with that damn grin on his face.

"I like Simon Says. How about you? You ever play that when you were a kid? Ya know, like … Simon says close your eyes."

_'Don't do it. Don't you dare do it. You're a grown man, not a damn dog.'_

"No."

Mike spun on him, raising the branch in the air then slamming it against the fallen tree so hard that part of it broke off. Daniel jumped and ducked the piece that flew at his head. "Simon says close your goddamned eyes, Daniel!"

Daniel closed his eyes.

_'What the hell are you doing? You're not just gonna do whatever this guy tells you to do?'_

_'If it keeps him from snapping like that again, yes.'_

"Simon says put your hands on your head."

He could hear Mike walking around, but he couldn't tell where he was. The echo between the trees was throwing his depth perception off. Had he moved closer? Further away?

He put his hands on his head.

_'He's fucking with you. It's one of his mind games. Don't let him do that again.'_

_'I know what it is. I've dealt with this before. I can get through this.'_

"Simon says … lace your fingers together."

Where was Mike? His voice definitely seemed closer, but Daniel couldn't be sure. Was it coming from in front of him? Or to his right? Why couldn't he tell?

He slid his hands together on the back of his head without a word.

_'Don't just stand there!'_

_'I don't have a choice!'_

"Turn to your right."

That came from right in front of him, no more than a foot away. When had he gotten that close? Jesus Christ.

Daniel turned.

_'Do something!'_

_'I can't!'_

"Ah, ah, ah." And that was whispered right in his fucking ear. He could feel Mike's breath on his neck and cheek, and he jerked his head away. "I didn't say Simon Says."

_'Great job not getting sucked into his game, LaRusso.'_

_'Shut up!'_

The branch slammed into the back of his right leg, and he bit off the cry of pain that tried to escape as he fell to his knees on the ground.

_'Why didn't he hit the left one? He hits that one, you're done, right?'_

_'Just be glad he didn't. I am.'_

"That's better." Mike wrapped his fingers around Daniel's hands and through his hair, then pulled his head back. Daniel didn't make a sound as he felt the jagged, broken end of the branch pressing into the skin under his chin. "Are you having fun, Daniel?"

He squeezed his eyes more tightly shut and held his breath. He didn't answer.

_'Atta boy, LaRusso. Don't play his game.'_

Mike pushed the branch higher and pulled harder on his hair, arching his head back so far that it made his shoulders hurt. "I said are you having fun?!"

"You didn't say … Simon Says." He forced the words out through his stretched throat and clenched teeth. He was ready for whatever consequences he'd have to pay for saying them.

Mike's laughter bounced through the trees. "Oh, that's good, Daniel," he said. "Very good." Then, right in his ear again, "You always were fun to play with." The branch was pulled away, and Mike shoved Daniel's head forward before letting go of his hair.

"I'm bored with this game now. Time to play something else."

Daniel knelt on the ground, with his hands on the back of his bowed head and his eyes closed.

_'Mr. Miyagi would know how to deal with this shit. What would he say?'_

_'Breathe in through nose, breathe out of mouth. Breathe in. Breathe out.'_

He couldn't move his arms, but he concentrated on the breath moving in and out of his lungs. He needed to focus. He needed to concentrate. He needed a plan.

"Stand up. Open your eyes, and put your hands down. You look ridiculous."

He did, grateful to at least be able to see again. Mike had crossed back to the other side of the tree. He hadn't put his right hand back in his pocket, and he was still carrying that branch around.

_'This is not good, LaRusso. This is bad. You gotta do something.'_

_'I'm doing the best I can.'_

"Do you like chess? I do. I hope you don't mind that I took my turn first." He pointed the branch at Johnny's still form. "I'm taking your pieces off the board, one by one."

Daniel took an instinctive step to his left, moving closer to Johnny before he realized he'd done it.

Mike turned slowly. "I saw that," he said. "I thought I told you to stay away from him."

Daniel raised his open hands in apology, but he didn't move.

Mike resumed his pacing.

"Anyway, back to our game. I've captured my first piece. I took your knight. Who's next? Which of those boys is your bishop, Daniel? And which is the pawn?"

"You're crazy," Daniel said. "I thought you were nuts before, but you have completely lost it."

The grin vanished, and when Mike whirled around, his face was flushed, his eyes were wild, and his lips were pulled back in a snarl. "I've lost exactly once in my life," he said, venom dripping from every word. "And it cost me everything. Do you have any idea what you took from me?"

"No," he answered honestly, shaking his head. "I don't."

"I was going to be a very rich man. I was going to own half the dojos in the state. I was going to be the Crown Prince of the Cobra Kai empire. All I had to do was beat you." Mike's expression grew impossibly darker. "But you … you had to go and win. With your stupid fucking kata, of all things. You and that stupid, worthless slope teacher of yours. You ruined everything!"

Daniel clenched his hands into fists, but then he took a deep breath and pushed the anger those words stirred down. His inability to control his temper had gotten him sucked into Mike, Kreese and Terry's web the first time. He couldn't afford to let it happen again.

"I learned, though," Mike continued. "I learned that if I want to win, I have to play by my own rules. And I don't lose anymore." Mike narrowed his eyes and moved toward Johnny. It was just one step, but the intention was clear.

Daniel moved to his left again. He wasn't even trying to be subtle, and he ran the risk of pissing Mike off again, but he didn't care. He'd put himself between Johnny and the very real threat that was Mike Barnes. That was what mattered.

Mike smiled again. "That's sweet," he said. "Always gotta be the hero, don't you? I bet you still think you can protect them."

Daniel didn't answer.

"But, see, the thing is …" Mike waved the branch around, gesturing at the trees with his arms as he spoke. "You don't know how many moves I've already made, do you? I've been following you all day, and you never spotted me. I could have killed you a dozen times over, and you'd never have known what hit you. You have no idea. You don't even know if your pawn and bishop are still standing."

Daniel's blood froze in his veins, and he had to force himself to stay where he was. His heart was pounding, his head was swimming, and a giant black hole had opened in his stomach. He wanted nothing more than to run back to camp to make sure the boys were okay, but he couldn't leave Johnny alone with Mike. But the boys … they were just kids. He couldn't let them be hurt. Yes, he was mad at Miguel, but he was still just a boy, and he wouldn't stand a chance against Mike. Robby's shoulder wasn't fully healed, basketball in the driveway notwithstanding, and he wouldn't be able to defend himself, either. And Johnny was injured, unconscious, and defenseless. He couldn't let him be hurt any more than he already had been.

He'd sworn to Johnny that he'd do anything to help him protect those kids. With every minute that passed and every word Mike spoke, the enormity of that vow only grew. It was becoming obvious that he was going to be forced to keep that promise a whole lot sooner than he could have expected. But no matter what happened to him, Johnny would make it off that mountain to stop Kreese. And the boys would be safe with him.

Mike's sudden reappearance couldn't have been a coincidence. He knew with everything in him that it wasn't. The timing was too perfect. If the plan was to take Daniel out, then so be it, but he had to make damn sure Johnny and the boys got out of the mess he'd somehow managed to get them dragged into. He didn't know how much damage Mike had already done, but he had to keep him from doing any more.

What was it Mike had said? He always won because he always played by his own rules? Maybe Daniel could take control of the situation after all. Maybe he wasn't as choiceless as he thought he was.

"You wanna play a game?" Daniel asked. His voice was rough, and he had to force the words out, but he thought that might actually work in his favor. Maybe it would be best if he sounded like he'd been beaten. He had a plan, but he only had one chance to pull it off.

_'Don't play his game. Make him play yours.'_

"Okay. I'll play. But it needs to be something more entertaining than chess." He had to make it interesting. He had to make it worth Mike's while. He had to make it appeal to Mike's twisted and warped sense of humor. "You up for some hide and seek?"

_'What the actual fuck are you doing?'_

_'If he's focused on me, he'll leave them alone.'_

Mike's eyebrows shot up, and his grin widened. "Oh, I like that, Daniel. I like that a lot." His gaze fell on Johnny again, and Daniel felt his muscles stiffen. "You're still thinking you're getting off this mountain, though, aren't you? You expecting blondie there to wake up and save you?"

Daniel shook his head slowly. "No," he said. "He wouldn't do that, because this has nothing to do with him. He hates me almost as much as you do, anyway."

_'No, he doesn't. You know that's not true.'_

_'Maybe it is. Maybe it isn't. It doesn't matter right now, anyway.'_

No matter how much Johnny might hate him, Mike hated him more.

"Besides, we're not going to play here." No, they weren't going to be anywhere near Johnny and the boys. If he managed to pull it off, the three of them were going to be completely out of harm's way just as soon as Johnny was back on his feet. "Where's the fun in that? It's not hide and seek if we can see each other, is it?"

_'This might be a bad idea.'_

_'I know these woods. He doesn't.'_

Mike rubbed his chin, and Daniel knew he was seriously considering it. "So, which one of us is It?"

"We both are," he answered. "We both hide, and we both seek. That way, it's about which one of us finds the other first."

_'That isn't safe. It's a bad idea. It's stupid.'_

_'But it'll work. And it's all I've got.'_

Mike nodded in amused agreement. "That would be fun."

Daniel had him.

_'Oh, you've got him, huh?'_

_'Shut up.'_

"Just one condition before we start," Daniel said.

"My rules!" Mike screamed, exploding forward once more.

Daniel managed to not jump when the branch hit the tree that time. He raised his hands in placation, but he held his ground. "Of course," he said. "You make the rules, Mike. It's your game. All I ask is one small favor."

"What?"

"I need to know there's a point in playing. Let me see for myself that the boys are okay."

The sound of that laugh made Daniel's hair stand on end. "Oh, that's adorable." If Mike had one weakness, it was the same one he'd always had – arrogance. He was so convinced of his own invincibility that he was going to give Daniel what he wanted. "Fine. Call the brats up here. But you let me see your face the entire time. And just remember, for all you know, I can shoot them all down right in front of you."

Mike put his right hand back in his pocket, pointed the branch at Daniel with his left, and stepped back until he was almost hidden in the treeline again. "We're playing by my rules, Daniel. And if you break them, you're not the only one who never leaves this mountain."

Daniel nodded slowly, then turned his head just far enough to yell over his shoulder.

"Robby!" He shouted as loudly as he could, but he never took his eyes from Mike's face. "Miguel!" He took a deep breath and resisted the urge to glance down and check on Johnny, to see if he was starting to come around at all. "Boys! Come here!"

He heard them before he could see them, the crunch of the leaves beneath their feet and the snapping of twigs as they ran telling him just how fast they were moving. They burst through the trees, and Daniel saw them from the corner of his eye. Miguel appeared first, followed less than a second later by Robby, who was holding his left arm with his right, keeping it immobile as he ran.

It took them both less than a second to react to what they saw.

"Sensei!"

"Dad!"

There was a slight hesitation as Miguel's steps faltered. Daniel didn't understand what had caused it, but he didn't have time to wonder about it, either. It didn't last very long, and they were both on their knees at Johnny's side before he could have asked, anyway. Neither of them had seen Mike yet.

"He's okay, boys," Daniel said carefully. He didn't turn toward them. Mike did, though, and while he was looking away, Daniel slipped his right hand into the pocket of his jeans, hoping like hell that he looked like he was just trying to appear casual. "He'll be fine."

Miguel jumped back to his feet, stalked toward him angrily, and shoved Daniel in the back. He stumbled forward, but he caught his balance quickly, and his gaze never wavered.

"What the hell did you do?" Miguel demanded. "What did you do to him?"

"Nothing," he answered. "He hit his head. He'll come around. Just give him a minute."

It was Robby who noticed Daniel's odd behavior, and he pushed himself to his feet slowly. He followed Daniel's gaze into the woods, and he gasped when he realized they weren't alone. Miguel shoved him again, obviously not having noticed that anything was wrong. Robby reached out and put his right hand on Miguel's arm, pulling him back slightly. Miguel spun on him.

"Of course you'd choose him!" he spat. "You would pick LaRusso over your own _father_!"

The hatred in Miguel's voice turned Daniel's stomach, but again, he didn't have time to worry about what was causing it. Johnny could figure it out and work them through their issues. Later. Much later. When none of them were anywhere near the mountain.

Robby shook his head slowly, and he tipped his head very slightly toward the trees. Miguel picked up on the subtlety of the movement, and he turned his eyes without turning his head.

Mike knew he'd been spotted, so he stepped forward, laughing again. He flung the branch toward them, laughing harder when Daniel flinched involuntarily at the sound of it hitting the fallen tree.

The whole situation had been intentional. Mike had stayed in front of the treeline on purpose. He'd known the boys would see him. That's why he'd made Daniel look at him. He'd wanted them to see him.

Mike hadn't _allowed_ Daniel's condition. He'd used it. He hadn't let him call the boys up because of arrogance. He'd done it for leverage. Daniel had wanted Johnny and the boys together so it would be easier for them to get away. Mike had wanted them together so it would be easier for him to take them out. He should have realized that.

_'Fuck!'_

"Boys," Daniel said slowly, his mind scrambling for a way to pull Mike's attention back to him. "That's … that's Mike. He's a … friend, an _old_ friend … of mine." He was actually impressed by how well he was lying, but he couldn't keep it up forever. "I'm just gonna go talk to him. I'll be right back."

"Mr. LaRusso, no!" Robby jumped forward and grabbed his arm, eyes wide. "You can't! You …"

Daniel shook his head, slightly but quickly, stopping Robby before he got started. There was no point in giving Mike any more ammunition than he already had. He did use the excuse Robby had just given him to pull his hand out of his pocket.

"I'm fine, Robby," he insisted softly, pressing the palm of his right hand against the back of Robby's. He felt the boy's hand turn under his, and he wrapped his fingers around it. "Stay with your dad. Take _care_ of him." In his peripheral vision, he saw Robby's eyes widen ever-so-slightly, and Daniel knew he understood. "Miguel," he said without turning around. "Johnny needs you. He'll wake up soon, and he'll need _both_ of you."

"Yeah, Mr. LaRusso. Of course." Miguel had obviously picked up on the seriousness of the situation, because when he answered, he didn't sound angry anymore. He sounded like the scared and confused kid he had to be.

"I'll be back. We'll get Johnny to the _hospital_ , and he'll be _fine_." Without being able to see Miguel, Daniel didn't know if he had caught on to everything he wasn't saying, but he was confident that Robby had. When Robby pulled his hand away and put it back inside the sling, looking for all the world like he was just supporting his injured arm, Daniel stepped forward.

"Okay," he said, jumping up on and then down from the tree to cross it. "Let's do this. Let's go _talk_."

Daniel refused to look back as he walked away. He trusted that the boys would get Johnny and themselves to safety. All he had to do was keep Mike away from them long enough for them to do it. He closed his eyes briefly, but he'd opened them again before he reached Mike's side.

Mike made a show of throwing his arm across Daniel's shoulders with a huge smile on his face. "Sure is great to see you again, buddy! I've missed you so much."

Daniel's skin crawled at the touch, but he didn't let it show. Once they were far enough in that the boys couldn't see them, Daniel threw Mike's arm off and started to run. Mike's laughter echoed through the trees behind him. If he was playing by the rules, Daniel had until the count of twenty before Mike started following. Whether he was running away from Mike or from the lie he'd just told the boys about coming back, he didn't know, and he didn't think it mattered either way. The result was the same.

The boys would take Johnny and get off the mountain. And Mike would be Daniel's problem to deal with alone.

* * *

Miguel and Robby stood, side-by-side, and watched Mr. LaRusso go into the woods with the stranger he'd called Mike. Silence descended around them, but the tension of the past few minutes remained.

"What's going on?" Miguel asked softly. "What the hell just happened?"

Robby shook his head. "I don't know. But whatever it is, it's bad. This is so fucking bad." His breath hitched in his throat when he realized the implication of what Mr. LaRusso had put in his hand. "He's not coming back."

"What?" Miguel turned toward him, eyes wide. "How do you know that?"

Robby pulled his right hand out of the sling, opened his fingers and held it out to show Miguel what he'd been given. Miguel turned his head back and forth quickly, between the woods, Johnny, and the keys in Robby's hand.

"Who the hell was that guy?"

"I have no idea," Robby answered, shaking his head slowly.

"What do we … how do we … what are we supposed to do?"

Robby hadn't moved, and he didn't know if he even could. He was numb, from head to toe. "We're supposed to take my dad and leave," he said. Without his car, Mr. LaRusso wouldn't be able to get off the mountain. He'd given Robby his only means of escape. "Without him."

Miguel was the first to move, as if Robby's words had reminded him they weren't the only two people there. "Sensei!" He fell to his knees at Johnny's side again, pushing the hair away from the bloody gash above his eye. "Sensei, wake up!"

Robby watched for a few seconds, torn between the man on the ground and the one who'd walked into the woods.

There was no doubt that the man named Mike was a threat. But what kind of threat was he? And what, exactly, had happened? How did his dad end up on the ground, unconscious and bleeding? Was Mr. LaRusso already hurt, too? Why hadn't he taken the guy on and fought him off? Robby knew for a fact that he could. Why had he chosen to go further up the mountain with him, alone?

There was only one answer.

"He's drawing him away," he said softly. "He's giving us time to run."

"Seriously?" Miguel's voice broke into his thoughts. "You heard what he said. He just took off with a buddy of his. Left Sensei here, hurt, and took off. They're probably leaving together."

Robby turned his head and looked down at him. "Are you that fucking stupid? Who the hell do you think did that to my dad?"

Miguel looked up at him. "Yeah, your _dad_ ," he said. His voice was sharp again, angry, but Robby didn't feel like reacting to it. "Ya know, the guy laying here on the ground bleeding while you're staring at the trees? He's your _dad_?"

"Yeah," Robby answered. "I know that."

"That's funny," Miguel shot back. "Because I didn't."

"Wait, what?" Robby closed his eyes and shook his head. "You didn't know?"

"No, I didn't know! How the hell was I supposed to know? No one told me!" Miguel busied himself checking on Johnny, though it was obvious he didn't actually know what he was doing. His hands hovered above Johnny's chest and shoulders, like he wanted to touch him but was afraid to. "Apparently, I don't deserve to know. It's not like it's important or anything …"

Robby rolled his eyes and turned back to the woods. "Jesus, whatever, man. Get over yourself. We've got more important shit to worry about."

"Yeah," Miguel spat. "Like your _dad_ isn't waking up, and you're just standing there!"

Mr. LaRusso's orders had been clear. He'd left no doubt what he expected them to do.

_'I'll be okay. I'll be back.'_

_But he didn't come back._

_Darkness. Pain. Blood._

_On the ground. On his hands. On his face. On his clothes._

_Where was it coming from?_

_'Mr. LaRusso?'_

_'Robby …'_

_Where was he? He could hear him. Why couldn't he see him? Why couldn't he move?_

_'Mr. LaRusso!'_

_'Go …'_

_He was lying on the ground in the darkness. He tried to stand up, but he couldn't._

_His leg was bent wrong. His hands were pressed against his stomach._

_And there was blood. So much blood. Everywhere._

_'I'm coming!'_

_He had to get to him. He had to help him._

_'Mr. LaRusso!'_

_'Robby …'_

_Pain. Darkness. Brown eyes closing. Dying. He was dying._

_He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't reach him._

_He couldn't save him._

_'Robby … go …'_

"No!" he shouted. Eyes he didn't remember closing shot open as he pushed the nightmare away.

Miguel jerked his head up in shocked surprise. "What?"

Mr. LaRusso's orders be damned. Robby wasn't going anywhere.

His decision made, Robby turned quickly and took the three steps to his father's side. He knelt down next to Miguel and held the keys out to him. "Take these," he said.

Miguel took them, but it was clear he didn't know why he was being told to. "Wake him up. Get him out of here, you hear me? Take care of my dad for me. Get him to the hospital."

He took one last look at Johnny. He knew what he had to do, but there was a part of him that was still conflicted.

That was his father in front of him, injured, maybe badly, and he needed to stay with him. He'd been ordered to stay with him. But how could he do that knowing Mr. LaRusso was out there alone? What was happening to him? What had he given himself over to? What was he sacrificing himself to protect them from?

The nightmare wouldn't leave him alone. The thought was ridiculous, and he was stupid for even thinking it, but he couldn't get it out of his mind. He knew – he _knew_ – that if someone wasn't there to stop it, Mr. LaRusso was going to die.

Robby couldn't let that happen. He wouldn't let that happen. He would trust Miguel to take care of his sensei, and he would go save his.

"I'll be back," he whispered, brushing the blond hair away from his father's face gently. "We'll be back."

He pushed himself to his feet, slipped the sling off over his head, and dropped it to the ground. Without another word, he turned toward the fallen tree.

"No!" Miguel was suddenly in front of him, his hands on his chest, shoving him back. "You said we're supposed to stay here!"

"I don't care," he said, trying to push by him.

Miguel shoved him again. "You can't leave him!"

"I can't leave Mr. LaRusso, either!" Miguel reached out to grab him, but Robby brought his hands up in a block, side-stepped, and spun past him. "You don't understand."

"No, I do understand!" Miguel yelled at his back. "I understand you're walking out on your father when he needs you. And you're doing it because of LaRusso? Really?"

Robby turned on his heel, raised his hand, and pointed right at Miguel's face. "You need to shut the fuck up. You don't know shit about me, my dad, or Mr. LaRusso."

"I'm not letting you leave," Miguel said simply.

"Whatever, man." He started to turn away once more.

Miguel grabbed his upper arm. "Robby, stop!"

"Robby? Miguel?" The voice came from behind them, and they both turned toward it.

"Sensei!"

"Dad!"

Cloudy blue eyes blinked at them as they knelt beside him again. Johnny tried to push himself up from the ground. "Ow, my head."

"Take it easy," Robby said.

"You're bleeding," Miguel added. "Be careful."

They got him upright and leaned against the tree, and he pressed the heel of his hand against his left eye. "What the hell hit me?"

"I think it was a tree branch," Miguel answered, glancing at the one the Mike guy had thrown at them.

"You'll be okay," Robby said. "Take a minute to get your legs back. Then Miguel is gonna …"

" _We_ are gonna," Miguel interrupted, glaring across at him, "take you to the hospital."

Robby shook his head as Johnny muttered, "That sounds like a good idea."

Silence fell again.

Robby needed to go. He really needed to go. Every minute that passed was another minute Mr. LaRusso was alone and in danger. But he couldn't leave his dad until he knew that he hadn't suffered any serious damage, and that Miguel would be able to get him down the trail and back to the car.

While those thoughts were swirling through Robby's head, Johnny was looking around the woods in confusion. His eyebrows lowered, and he tilted his head.

"What is it?"

"Sensei? Are you okay?"

"Wait … wait!" The confusion in Johnny's eyes turned to alarm. The fact that he'd been unconscious less than two minutes earlier didn't seem to matter as he jumped to his feet and turned in a circle. Then all the blood drained from his face, and he started to pitch forward. The boys jumped to their feet, grabbed his arms, and caught him before he fell.

"Easy, Dad."

Johnny was shaking, wobbling, and pale as a ghost, but judging by the look on his face, whatever had startled him hadn't faded. He turned his head back and forth between the boys.

"Where is he?" he demanded. "Where the hell is LaRusso?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Johnny puts his foot down, Daniel gets the point, Robby is his fathers’ son, and Miguel builds a bridge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for several canon and one non-canon (but in-character) racial/ethnic slurs. Because Mike is an asshole.

* * *

"Come out, come out, wherever you are …"

Daniel ducked behind yet another tree and crouched behind the weeds and vines that surrounded it. He pressed his shoulders against the trunk, leaned his head back, and closed his eyes. He'd been moving from tree to tree, from rock to rock, for at least twenty minutes. He'd been staying just far enough ahead to hide while making sure Mike knew roughly where he was.

It was a calculated risk, because if Mike got close enough to get a hand on him, it was over. But he knew those woods, he knew where the best hiding spots were, and he knew how to move between them. He'd been leading Mike along the most confusing path he could think of. Zigging and zagging, bobbing and weaving, crossing back through places they'd already been three and four times, all to keep Mike from getting a solid sense of where they were.

Despite what Daniel had said to get Mike to agree, the game wasn't about which of them found the other first. If it had been, it would have been over too quickly. Daniel had known exactly where Mike was the entire time. The same could not be said in reverse.

"Motherfucker," Mike muttered as he crashed through the undergrowth. "Where the hell are you?"

Daniel smiled, knowing those words hadn't been meant for his ears. It was working. Mike was lost, and he was getting frustrated. That was a good thing, but Daniel had to be careful. If he got too frustrated, there was nothing to stop him from giving up and trying to find his way back to the campsite. And if he figured out which direction to go, he'd be there in less than ten minutes.

If he did that, and if he turned his frustration on Johnny and the boys … no. He knew what he was doing, and that wasn't going to happen.

He wouldn't let it happen.

"Which way did you go?"

He held his breath as Mike walked behind the tree he was leaning on. He was no more than two feet from him, and Mike had no idea.

"I know you're here somewhere," Mike said. "You can't hide forever."

He had to admit, the man had a point. He hadn't exactly been thinking long-term when he'd come up with the hide and seek plan. But he didn't need long-term. He only needed enough time for the other three to get away.

Once Johnny was on his feet, it would only take a couple of minutes to get back to the campsite. It was another fifteen from the camp to the car. It would probably take them a little longer with Johnny hurt, because the boys wouldn't want him moving too quickly. So, if he gave them forty-five minutes, that should be more than enough time.

Of course, that was assuming Johnny had regained consciousness. If he hadn't, then he had more wrong with him than just a concussion, and they had a much bigger problem.

"You do know this whole thing is pointless, right?" Mike's voice had moved further away, and Daniel let himself breathe again. "You can keep trying. You can pull out all your little tricks, but it won't work. I don't lose, Daniel. I will find you."

He turned his head to the left and watched Mike disappear into the woods a bit further up the mountain. As soon as he was completely out of sight, Daniel leaned around the other side of the tree. He'd learned fairly quickly how to use the echoes to his advantage, how to bounce his voice off the trees to keep Mike's attention pointed in the right direction without giving away his exact position.

"Well, you're going the wrong way!" he called out.

He ducked, darted back to his right, and slid behind a large boulder. He moved around it silently, back to his left. After a mental ten count, he peeked around the side.

"Oh, you think you're clever, don't you?" Mike laughed as he approached the tree Daniel had been hiding behind only seconds earlier. "Got news for ya, Dannyboy. You're not as smart as you think you are."

Mike stepped around the tree. When he realized Daniel wasn't there, he kicked at the underbrush for a few seconds, and then he spun around. He turned his head back and forth, and he even looked up into the tree.

Daniel grinned. He was having entirely too much fun with what was, overall, an incredibly serious and potentially deadly situation.

Mike shook his head and circled the tree again, mumbling curses about Daniel's parentage as he headed off in the same direction he'd gone before.

Daniel glanced back at him, counted to twenty in his head, and then broke cover. He took off in the opposite direction, crossing back over the route they'd taken to get where they were. He let Mike see him, but he stayed far enough ahead that he couldn't catch him.

"Ready or not, here I come!"

Daniel kept running, darting through and around the trees, until he knew for sure that Mike was following him. Then he turned, doubled back, and cut across the path they'd just made.

"Cute," he heard Mike call out as he ran past him. "Real cute, Daniel!"

He kept moving. He knew exactly where he was going. There was a pile of boulders and fallen trees just ahead that looked solid from the outside and would give him complete cover. He put on a last burst of speed to push himself out of Mike's line of sight, dove behind the rocks, and then rolled under the trees.

Mike broke through the treeline only seconds after Daniel stopped moving, and he looked around uncertainly. He had to know Daniel wasn't far away, but he obviously didn't know where he was.

"Gotta admit," Mike said as he walked forward slowly. "You're better at this than I thought you'd be."

Daniel smiled.

* * *

"He did _what_?"

Johnny's first attempt at being vertical hadn't ended well, so the boys had made him sit on the tree. They'd spent more time fussing over him than he thought they should, and it had taken way too long for his question about LaRusso to be answered. Miguel had finally started telling him what he knew about what had happened, but he didn't know much.

None of them knew much. Johnny had been unconscious for the whole thing, and the boys had still been at camp. Whatever had gone on, the only person who knew about it was the person who wasn't there to tell him.

"He left," Miguel repeated with a shrug. "He gave Robby his keys, told us to take you to the hospital, and they went off in the woods together. Guy had his arm around him and everything."

Johnny leaned his head into his hands, rubbing his temples with his fingers. That didn't make any sense. Miguel's answers didn't do anything but give him more questions.

_'Who is this guy? What's he doing here? What the hell happened? Why would LaRusso leave?'_

"And you're sure he called the guy Mike?"

Miguel nodded. "Yeah. He said he was a friend of his. Why? Do you know him?"

"No," Johnny said. He started to shake his head, but he thought better of it. "I have no idea who he is. He mentioned a Mike, but he only said his name once, and he didn't sound like he was talking about a friend."

"What?" Miguel sounded confused. "But he said …"

"He was lying," Robby said softly. He was standing a few feet off to Johnny's left, facing away from him, staring into the woods. Those were the first words he'd spoken in ten minutes.

Johnny turned toward him.

"You sure?" he asked.

Robby nodded slowly. "He was acting … wrong. Not like him. He was just standing there, in front of you, staring at the guy. And he wasn't moving. At all. He didn't look at us when we came up, or turn around when he talked to us. It was like he … I don't know … couldn't? Does that make sense?"

Johnny tilted his head. Thinking back over all the years he'd known LaRusso, he didn't think he'd ever seen him stand still. He was constantly in motion. He even talked with his hands. So if he hadn't been moving, he'd have been putting a lot of effort into it. He could only think of one reason he would do that. "Like he'd been told not to?" he asked. "Or he thought something bad might happen if he did?"

"Yeah," Robby answered, nodding his head quickly. "Yeah, exactly like that. And …" He swallowed hard and bit his lip.

"And what?" Johnny prompted.

"He was scared," Robby said. "Really scared."

"I didn't think he was scared," Miguel said. "It was weird, yeah. But he left with the guy. And he made it really clear that we're supposed to take you to the hospital. _Both_ of us." He said that with a pointed look at Robby that Johnny was going to need an explanation for at some point. "I think we should do what he said. He's gone. You're awake. And we need to go." He reached out to grab Johnny's arm to pull him to his feet.

"Miguel." Johnny's voice made him stop. When he looked up, Johnny shook his head slowly. Miguel crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, but he stayed where he was. Maybe Miguel had a point. Maybe LaRusso had just gone off with a friend, but Robby knew him better than any of them did. If Robby said he was scared, then he was probably scared. Johnny turned to his left again. "Robby?"

Robby shrugged. "He didn't want us to know," he said. "He tried really hard to hide it, but …" He shook his head in frustration. "Whoever that Mike guy is, Mr. LaRusso's afraid of him."

"So, of course, he took off alone with him."

Johnny wasn't actually surprised. He could see LaRusso leaving with someone he was scared of, if he thought it would keep that person away from innocent people – away from the boys, away from Robby. It would take a lot to scare him that much, but he'd said there was a lot of bad shit he didn't know about. Bad shit that had to do with Kreese, somebody named Terry, some guy named Mike, and …

_"You're not the only one of us who's ever worn that damn snake on your back."_

LaRusso had been Cobra Kai. When and how the hell that had happened, Johnny had no idea, but they'd done something to him. Something bad enough that he was willing to do anything to keep it from happening to anyone else. And that Mike guy had been part of it. Johnny couldn't remember the exact words LaRusso had used, but he understood his meaning.

He was going to protect the kids. He'd save them or …

_"… die trying …"_

_"I'll … die trying …"_

_"I'll stop him or die trying."_

_'Shit.'_

_Blood … On the ground. On his clothes. On his hands._

_'You're alright, LaRusso. It's okay. You're okay.'_

_Darkness. Pain. Blood. So much blood._

_'It hurts!'_

"Shit!"

Both boys turned toward him as he pushed himself to his feet. He hadn't meant to say it out loud, but he hadn't been able to stop it. His vision blurred around the edges, and he closed his eyes until it passed. He felt the boys moving toward him, but he held his hands up to keep them back. He didn't have time for them to worry about him. He knew what LaRusso was doing, and he knew what was going to happen.

He couldn't let it happen.

"Which way did they go?"

* * *

"At least you're putting up a fight. You're trying to make it look like a challenge. And maybe you're even starting to believe you have a chance."

Daniel used his ears to keep track of Mike's position, and he kept his eyes on the one weak spot in his cover. There was a small hole between the trees in front of him, and if Mike looked closely enough, he'd see him. His blue sweatshirt wasn't exactly good camouflage. He knew where he was going next, but he couldn't move until Mike was far enough away. Until then, he just had to stay still and stay hidden.

"Ya know what the best part of this whole thing is?" Mike had been talking non-stop for several minutes. He was mostly saying the same things over and over again, about not losing and that he'd find him eventually, all the same things he'd been saying since they'd started. But that was new, and it was different enough that it caught Daniel's attention. "It's that you think I'm the odd man out. You think I'm the one who's up here alone."

_'Don't listen to him. Whatever he says, it's a lie.'_

_'I know that.'_

"You actually think you're protecting them? Blondie and the brats?" Through the gap in the trees, he saw Mike bend down, pick up a small branch, and start swinging it around like he'd done earlier. "You think they give a shit about you, Daniel? You think they didn't sell you out?"

_'He's fucking with your head again. Stop listening.'_

_'Kinda hard to ignore him.'_

"You think this is a coincidence? After thirty-four years? Come on. I know you're a dumbass, but you gotta be smarter than that."

_'Don't let him in your head. Don't give him that power.'_

_'I'm not giving him anything.'_

"Blondie opens Cobra Kai back up. His kid weasels his way into your life." Mike smacked the branch against the trees and rocks as he walked past them. "John Kreese shows up, back from the dead, out of nowhere. And I find you on top of a mountain. You think it wasn't all connected? Think about it, Daniel."

_'Don't believe him. He's lying.'_

_'Johnny. Robby. Kreese. Mike. Cobra Kai.'_

"You were right when you said Blondie wasn't gonna save you. And you were even half-right about why." He thrust the branch into an overgrown patch of weeds at the base of one of the trees.

_'Stop that. You know what's real. You were there.'_

_'But why Cobra Kai? He could have called it anything. Why that?'_

Daniel closed his eyes, leaned his forehead against his hands, and breathed as deeply as he dared. Mike was getting closer. That branch was going to hit the trees above him soon, and he had to focus on staying still. If he jumped or twitched at all, he was done.

"He really does hate you, but this has everything to do with him."

_'He's fucking psycho, LaRusso. Psychos lie.'_

_'Unless they tell the truth.'_

With that swing, Mike hit the rocks behind him. Daniel squeezed his eyes more tightly shut.

"Bet you never imagined he was in on it from the beginning, did you?"

_'No, he wasn't!'_

_'What if he was?'_

Mike slammed the branch into the trees on the outside edge of the pile. Every muscle in Daniel's body tensed.

"Hell, he started it."

_'No, he didn't!'_

_'What if he did?'_

That one smashed down on the tree right next to him. Daniel caught his lip between his teeth and bit down on it.

"He's the whole reason I'm here, Daniel."

_'No, he isn't!'_

_'What if he is?'_

The tree above his head shook from the violence of the impact. Daniel held his breath, clenched his teeth, and pressed his face into his arms.

It was just one of Mike's stupid damn mind games. It had to be. It wasn't true. It couldn't be.

_'All a lie. Every word. Because psychos lie.'_

_'Unless the truth would hurt more.'_

The next smack came from a few feet off to his right. Daniel took a deep, shaky, silent breath, and let the tension drain from his body and into the dirt beneath him. He tried to send the doubts starting to cloud his mind with it.

Mike kept talking and hitting things as he moved away, but Daniel wasn't listening anymore. He'd already heard more than enough. He shook his head to clear it, and he rose up on his knees. Even if Mike was telling the truth _'he's not he's not he's not'_ , he didn't have time to worry about it. Mike was far enough away to give him the room he needed to move, and he had more important things to focus on.

He crawled out of his hiding place and pushed himself to his feet. He stood there for a few seconds, watching Mike's back as he walked into the trees. He needed to knock Mike off-balance again. He needed to take back the control and clarity he was on the verge of losing.

"Hey, Mike?"

Mike froze and turned around, openly shocked to see Daniel standing behind him, out in the open.

"You're a terrible liar."

Daniel winked and took off into the woods again.

* * *

For the second time in less than an hour, Miguel and Robby stood in silence and stared at the trees one of their sensei had disappeared into.

"Ya know, for two people who think we shouldn't be here alone, they sure keep leaving us here alone, don't they?"

Robby didn't answer him, but Miguel hadn't really expected him to.

Robby had put up one hell of a fight when Sensei told them he was going after LaRusso. He'd tried to stop him. He'd tried to go himself. He'd yelled, and he'd argued, and it hadn't done any good. Miguel had done his best to talk him out of it, too, but he hadn't been any more successful.

_"What he's doing, Robby, luring this Mike guy away? He's doing it to protect you." He'd looked over Robby's shoulder at Miguel then. "He's doing it to protect both of you. Don't make him waste it. Whatever happens, he needs to know that you boys are safe. You can't be here alone. You've got to go."_

_"He's doing it to protect you, too, Dad! Why do you think he was standing between you when we got here?"_

_"Sensei, please. You're hurt. You're still bleeding. You need to go to the hospital."_

_"I have a headache. I'm fine."_

_"At least let us come wi…"_

_"No," he said, shaking his head slowly. "Someone has to go after LaRusso, but it's just gonna be me. I'm doing it alone."_

_"Dad …!"_

_He held up a finger, and Robby stopped. "We're wasting time we don't have. Look, I'll call you as soon as I find him, okay? But this is not a fight you're gonna win. I'm the adult. I'm in charge. And I am telling you two to get in LaRusso's car and get the hell off this mountain. Is that clear?"_

_Neither of them answered._

_"I said is that clear?!"_

_"Yes!"_

_"Yes, Sensei."_

_"I'll be back." He started to turn away, but he looked back at them across his shoulder. "No. We'll be back. I will find him, and I will bring him back, Robby. I promise."_

_Then he jumped over the tree and started running._

"Come on," Miguel said with a sigh, tapping Robby lightly on the shoulder as he turned. "Let's go."

Robby didn't move, other than to shake his head.

"Robby," he said softly. "They both told us to go. Don't you think we should …?"

"Do you really want to?" Robby didn't look at him when he spoke. "Do you really want to leave them here?"

Miguel sighed and turned back around. Truthfully, he'd not really had a problem with leaving LaRusso behind, when he thought the man had abandoned them with an injured Sensei Lawrence to go hang out with a friend of his. The things Sensei and Robby had both said since then, though, about the way LaRusso had acted and what that meant, about him not moving, and being scared, and going off with that Mike guy anyway, just to protect the three of them, well … Maybe he'd changed his mind about that.

When Sensei said he was going after him, he'd definitely changed his mind. And as soon as he was gone, Miguel understood exactly what Robby had been feeling and thinking and wanting to do since LaRusso left.

"No," he answered. "I don't."

Robby nodded silently.

"But what else can we do?" Miguel asked.

"We can go after them!"

"We really can't." Robby spun on him, just as Miguel had done to him earlier. "Come on, Robby, what are we gonna do? We've both been training less than a year, and you've only got one arm. We have no idea where they are. And even if we did, you said yourself that Mr. LaRusso's afraid of that guy, right? If he's afraid of him, as long as he's been doing karate, how bad does he have to be? What the hell could we do that they can't? Other than make them worry about us when they probably have bigger shit to deal with? We wouldn't be helping them. We'd be … getting in their way."

"You're saying we should leave."

Robby was pissed, and Miguel couldn't blame him. He was pissed, too. He was pissed about their fight earlier. He was pissed his camping trip with Sensei had gotten so screwed up. He was pissed no one had told him Robby was Sensei's son. He was pissed Sensei was hurt. He was pissed they kept getting left behind. He was pissed there was nothing they could do about any of it.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I'm saying we should do what they told us to do. We shouldn't stay _here_." He raised his eyebrows and pointed at the ground. "Look, Sensei said he'd call when he finds him, right?"

Robby nodded. "Yeah."

"Okay. So, we head down to Mr. LaRusso's car, like they told us to. But, maybe we walk slow. And maybe, when we get there, we don't leave right away." The words started coming faster as the plan solidified in his mind. "Maybe we wait for that phone call. Because maybe they'll need us, and maybe they won't. But either way, we'll be here. Because maybe, for right now, even if we can't help them … this is where we belong." He sighed. He didn't want to admit it. He wanted to hold on to the anger and hatred, because he felt justified in both. But it wasn't going to help anyone. "Both of us."

Robby tilted his head, lowered his eyebrows, and looked at him. His face said he was seriously considering what Miguel had just said, but he hadn't decided if he should trust him or not.

"Our shit," Miguel said, waving his hand back and forth between them. "It can wait. I'm not saying it's over, and I'm not saying we're gonna be friends or anything. But, your sensei, my sensei, your dad … they might be in real trouble. And you were right. Until this is done, we've got bigger things to worry about. It's more important for us to be ready if they need us than to waste our time and energy fighting with each other. Right?"

Robby nodded firmly. "Okay," he said. "For them, yeah. I can do that."

"Good," Miguel said, turning away one last time. "Because if you'd said no, I'd have had to kick your ass."

Robby snorted. "You could have tried."

Miguel glanced back at him. He was still upset, but at least he wasn't staring into the woods anymore, and he was starting to walk away. He kept looking over his shoulder, obviously not completely comfortable with the idea of leaving.

Miguel couldn't help but do the same. He knew that getting to the car was the best they could do under the circumstances, but he couldn't shake the nervousness that had started growing in the pit of his stomach. Something terrible was about to happen. He had no idea what it was or why he felt the way he did, but he knew it was real.

And whatever it was, he and Robby needed to be ready for it.

"Come on," he said again, tilting his head toward the trail.

Robby nodded and picked his sling up from the ground.

They walked back to camp together.

* * *

The tree had been there longer than Daniel had known the place existed. In the years that had passed since he'd first found it, it had never moved, never shifted, and never broken. It was as much a part of the mountain as it had become part of his training method. It was the place he'd taken both Sam and Robby to find their balance, and he could think of nowhere better to stop running and find his own.

He glanced at his watch as he walked into the clearing. He'd done what he'd set out to do. He'd managed to both evade Mike and get him so twisted and turned around on the way up that he'd be lucky to find his way back out. The trip from the campsite to the tree, which should have taken no more than twenty minutes, had taken over an hour. Johnny and the boys had to be long gone. They were safe.

It was time for his and Mike's little game to come to an end.

He crossed to the tree, grabbed the branches that had embedded themselves in the ground when it fell, and started climbing. He could remember lifting Sam up to it, before she'd been tall enough to get up on her own. He also remembered how quickly Robby had scaled it. It had been years since he'd tried it himself, and he couldn't help but be slightly proud of how swiftly and smoothly he did it.

Mike emerged from the trees less than a minute later. He'd obviously already seen Daniel standing above him, and he walked straight toward him with the same smug sense of confidence and arrogance he'd had an hour earlier.

Daniel held his open hands out at his sides. "Olly olly oxen free," he said.

Mike smiled as he moved closer. "You giving up, Daniel?" he asked. "I knew you were a wimp, but I'm disappointed. I thought you'd last longer than this. We were just starting to have fun, too."

Daniel shook his head slowly. "I'm not giving up," he said. "I'm just done playing." He took a deep breath. "Game's over."

Mike snorted. "Then what the hell are you doing up there?"

"Giving you a chance."

"To do what?"

"Turn around and leave."

"And why the hell would I do that?" Mike asked. "I've been waiting more than thirty years for this. You think I'd walk away now?"

"I think we'd both be better off if you did."

"I think only one of us would be, and that would be you." Mike took two more steps toward the tree, and he narrowed his eyes. "And in case you hadn't noticed, I don't give a shit how hard this is for you. I thought I made that clear."

"Yeah," Daniel said with a nod. "You did."

"Besides, you wanted to play. You could have left any time you wanted to."

Daniel snorted. "Right."

Mike shook his head. "No, you could have. I mean, yeah, I'd have tracked you down again. Wouldn't have been hard. And I'd have done the same to Blondie and those kids. But you could have left."

Daniel's shoulders stiffened.

"What?" Mike's smile was back. "You believed what I said, about this being some big evil plot? Everybody was in on it? Or maybe you still thought me showing up was an accident?" Mike shrugged and put his hands in his pockets. "Truth is, I've been watching you for months, waiting for my chance. I know where you live, where you work, and which way you drive to get there. I know all about your beautiful wife, and your beautiful daughter, and your spoiled asshole of a son. Your mother, your loser cousin. I was there when you kicked Tom Cole. I even followed you to the slope's grave, like he meant something."

Daniel swallowed hard and said nothing. What could he say?

_'You've got yourself a stalker, LaRusso.'_

_'No shit.'_

Mike started walking slowly, back and forth, waving his arms around as he spoke. "I could have killed you a hundred times, but none of them felt right. A car wreck? Too easy. A random shooting? Not personal enough. A mugging would have been cliché. And a robbery-gone-wrong would be boring. No, I'm glad I waited for today. You and me, one-on-one, on a mountain. We've got history, don't we? It seems fitting somehow. If I just had some rope and a cliff to throw you off of."

Daniel closed his eyes and took a deep breath as Mike's laughter echoed around him. "And, I have to admit, fucking with you this morning was fun. If you could have seen your face, Daniel. I don't know what that kid was freaking out about, but it was perfect. He had you so worked up. It was great."

At least he finally knew that what he'd felt on the trail and by the lake had been real. He turned his thoughts and his focus inward, and though he heard Mike's words, he didn't let them affect him again.

"And it was so easy to get you out here. An invisible gun, a couple of empty threats, and you're willing to do anything I say. Anything to protect them, right?" Mike said. "Just like that pretty redheaded girl. Make you think someone else is in danger, and you'll do every single thing you're told. It's predictable. You're predictable. It was almost too easy."

Invisible gun. Empty threats. Johnny and the boys had never been in any real danger.

_'Except for that branch upside the head thing.'_

_'Yeah. There is that.'_

Mike had known from the very beginning how Daniel was going to react. He'd have felt like a fool if he let himself think about how easily he'd been led around by the nose. As it was, he simply took comfort in knowing that Johnny and the boys were safe so long as he kept playing his part.

"There was no knight; there was no bishop. They were all pawns. They just weren't yours. They were mine. And I used them to get what I wanted."

Daniel opened his eyes and lifted his head.

"It was never about them, Daniel. It was always – always – about you."

He'd used the few minutes Mike's ramblings had afforded him to start preparing himself for what was coming, but he wasn't ready yet. He zipped his sweatshirt up and pushed the sleeves to his elbows. Then, he took a deep breath and blew it out.

"Come on," Mike said impatiently. "Stop fucking around. You're the one who decided to do this. So get your ass down here and do it."

Daniel nodded slowly, turned and walked to the other end of the tree. He moved steadily but carefully past the small branches that stuck out at random, to where the incline sloped up to meet the unearthed roots. He bent down, put his right hand on the trunk, and jumped off. He turned in the air, and he was facing Mike when he landed.

"You're sure this is what you want?" he asked. "You can still walk away."

Mike laughed again. "I already told you. I'm not going anywhere."

Daniel straightened and pushed his shoulders up. He kept his voice calm and even when he spoke. "I don't think this is going to end the way you want it to."

Mike actually threw his head back that time. "Right. Because I didn't kick the living shit out of you the last time we stood across from each other."

Daniel shook his head. "No, you did," he admitted. "But I still won, didn't I?"

Mike's jaw tensed and his eyes narrowed. "And I haven't lost since."

Daniel reached up and ran his hand almost reverently across the tree as he walked alongside it. "Don't make me do this, Mike."

Mike's answer was to widen his feet and raise his hands. "I'm not making you do anything. You can leave if you want. Just know that I'll follow you, and I'll find you. And everyone you've ever cared about."

The threat was still there, and it wasn't empty. Mike was a danger to everyone he knew. Everyone he loved. He had to stop him.

"I'm not a scared little kid anymore. And this is no tournament. I don't want to do this, but I will."

"Oh, come on," Mike said. "What do you think you are? Some kind of Zen master badass?" Mike pulled his right fist back. "I've said it before, and I'll say it again. Your teacher was nothing, you're nothing, and your karate is shit. I own you, LaRusso. I own you!"

He didn't want to do it. He wanted to believe he could talk to Mike like a reasonable person. But one look at his eyes, at the hatred and madness shining in them, convinced him there was no other way. They'd gone past any point of no return they'd had, and there were only two ways for it to end. If that was how it had to be, then he had to see it all the way through.

It wasn't just his life on the line if he messed up. He could have dealt with it if it was just him. But it was Robby. And Johnny. And Miguel. Amanda, Sam and Anthony. Everyone. He couldn't second-guess himself. If he was willing to start it, he had to be ready to finish it.

He took a deep breath as he assumed his own stance less than two feet away.

"Do you know the biggest difference between me and my sensei?" he asked.

Mike laughed again. "You're a live Wop, and he's a dead Jap?"

Daniel shook his head slowly. What he was about to do went against everything Mr. Miyagi had ever taught him. It went against everything he was teaching Robby. It went against everything he believed in. But he didn't care. He couldn't care. The fight had quite literally come to him.

He didn't want to do it. But he had no choice.

_'It's alright, LaRusso. It's okay.'_

"He was a hero," he said. "And I'm no goddamned pacifist."

Finally willing to admit it was sometimes necessary, and for once thankful he'd had Johnny Lawrence to show him how, Daniel LaRusso struck first.

* * *

Johnny had no idea where he was going. All he knew was LaRusso had been headed up the mountain when he left. He was hoping that if he went the same direction, he'd find him. Eventually. Somehow. He was running faster than he probably should have been with a concussion, and he wasn't paying any attention to the scenery around him. LaRusso had better be able to get them back down, because there was no way Johnny was going to know which way to go.

He'd been running longer than he'd thought he was going to have to, too. He was starting to worry that he was never going to find LaRusso, and all he was going to manage to do was get himself lost. Wouldn't that be great?

_'You're too negative. You'll find him. Stay focused.'_

_'What the hell?'_

Okay, so … he had a voice in his head that sounded a whole hell of a lot like Daniel LaRusso. That wasn't weird at all. He was sure it was perfectly normal.

It had to be the concussion.

He heard the sounds of a fight ahead of him, off in the distance. He was too far away to see anything, but he'd heard it enough times in his life that he knew exactly what it was. He followed the noise right to them, crouching low to the ground as he approached.

_'Told you you'd find him.'_

_'You can shut up now.'_

He'd have to watch them for at least a few seconds before deciding if he should get involved. If LaRusso was focused and doing well, it was possible that interfering would do more harm than good. Depending on just how well he was doing, Johnny might not be needed at all. He'd never seen that Mike guy, but he was very well acquainted with LaRusso's fighting style. And he knew from experience that he could take care of himself.

He stood to the side of a large tree, using it and the smaller saplings growing around it as cover. He moved around it slowly, silently, until he could see them clearly. He was about twenty feet behind and just slightly downhill from them. The massive tree that had fallen across the clearing was an impressive backdrop for the fight taking place in front of it.

Neither of them knew he was there. They'd have had to turn away from each other to know that, and neither one looked to be letting their focus stray any time soon. They weren't talking to each other; there was no taunting, no arguing, no anything. Their kiais were the only sounds either of them made.

It had been a lot of years since Johnny had seen a battle that intense. It wasn't for points or trophies. It wasn't about some random act of violence in the middle of nowhere. There was something going on between those two. It went beyond the fear Robby had seen, beyond the anger and hatred Johnny knew had to exist. It was something deeper than all of that, something he didn't understand.

_'This Mike guy is no one he's ever called friend.'_

_'Yeah, no shit.'_

He'd been right in thinking that interfering would be a mistake. LaRusso was laser-focused on his opponent, and distracting him would be dangerous. Besides, he was handling himself just fine. More than fine. He was kicking Mike's ass.

He was doing a lot of that patience/no aggression thing he did, the one he’d passed on to Robby. He was making the guy come to him and using his defense to repel the attacks. But he was using more offense than Johnny had seen him use before. When Mike would back off to regroup, LaRusso would follow him. He'd keep after him, land several hits of his own, and then he'd step back. Mike would go at him again, and he'd get the same result. Over and over. And it was working. Mike was wearing himself out, and LaRusso's kicks and punches were landing more often and with more force.

Johnny still had no idea who the hell Mike was, but it was obvious he knew his stuff.

He was fast, for starters. Aggressive, calculating, and explosive. It wasn't doing him any favors with LaRusso using it against him, but Johnny was almost impressed by his skill. His powerful and violent moves were a contrast to LaRusso's smoother, more-controlled style. It was evident that Mike had also been Cobra Kai at some point. He moved almost as much like Kreese as Johnny himself did. He'd landed more than a few hits of his own, too. LaRusso's face bore the evidence of that. Watching them reminded him, of all things, of Luke Skywalker battling Darth Vader. For just a second, he wondered if that's what he and LaRusso had looked like from the stands all those years ago, too.

LaRusso blocked another barrage of punches and kicks. But that time, he didn't try to land any of his own. Mike backed off to catch his breath. Instead of pursuing, as he'd been doing, LaRusso backed off, too. And then, he stopped. He just stopped. He stood there, his shoulders heaving with every breath, and for the first time, Johnny could see how tired he was.

He had a feeling things were about to take a drastic turn.

_'I gotta get in there.'_

_'Wait. Not yet.'_

LaRusso took a deep breath, pushed his shoulders back, and dropped both arms to his sides. He pulled his fists back to his hips. His jaw was set, his face was hard, and his eyes were narrow, but his defense was down. He'd left himself wide open.

_'What the hell is he doing?'_

_'Stay out of his way. Watch.'_

"No!" Mike shouted. "You will not do that shit to me again!"

He charged. Maybe he saw his chance to turn the tide. Maybe he was just incredibly pissed that LaRusso had dropped his guard. Either way, it didn't matter. Mike was about to hit LaRusso with everything he had. Johnny ignored the voice in his head and stepped forward.

_'Don't distract him!'_

Just before Mike's punch landed, LaRusso spun from the waist. He used his right arm to knock Mike's fist aside. The momentum brought his left hand up. It slammed into the side of Mike's face with so much force that it knocked his head sideways. Mike swung again, that time with his left hand. LaRusso repeated the move with his left arm and right hand.

For some reason, the guy kept trying. But the harder he swung, the harder LaRusso's hand landed. He was literally using Mike's own power to beat the shit out of him.

_'What is that?'_

_'That's impressive. Isn't it?'_

_'Yeah. Yeah, it … it really is.'_

That wasn't tournament karate. That was nothing Johnny had ever seen before. That was the real stuff. LaRusso wasn't sparring or matching. He was fighting. Like his life depended on it. Like he knew exactly what he was doing. Like he'd done it before.

_'And I thought he needed my help?'_

_'It's not over yet.'_

Mike finally pulled himself away, backed up, and fell to his knees. LaRusso reached down, grabbed the collar of his jacket, and pulled his fist back.

"This ends now," he said breathlessly. "No more!"

"Do it!" Mike spat a mouthful of blood at him. "Come on, Daniel! Show me what a great man you are!'

Johnny could almost see the muscles in LaRusso's jaw twitching. He opened his hand and raised his arm … and he'd seen that before. One man on his knees, the other standing over him, preparing to strike. Both times he'd been witness to it, it was being done to protect him. Mr. Miyagi hadn't finished it in the parking lot. LaRusso sure as hell looked like he was going to finish it on the mountain.

_'No. Daniel … no …'_

_'Trust him.'_

Suddenly, LaRusso's whole face changed. He closed his eyes and tipped his head to the side, like he was listening to something. Something only he could hear. The anger on his face fell away, and it was replaced with an expression of shock and disbelief.

"No."

He looked almost as surprised he'd said it as Johnny was he'd heard it. "I won't." He shook his head, dropped his hand, and let go of Mike's collar. "I won't do it," he said, backing up slowly. "I'm done, Mike. It's over."

Then, he turned his back and started to walk away.

Johnny smiled softly and nodded.

_'Nice.'_

Mike exploded from the ground with a roar, fists swinging wildly. LaRusso spun to face him. He had to step back, but he blocked every punch. His hands and arms were moving faster than they should be able to. Mike landed a lucky kick against his shoulder that knocked him off balance. He followed with a double-fisted backhand that snapped LaRusso's head back.

Johnny heard it connect from where he was standing.

_'Now?'_

_'He's still okay.'_

LaRusso stepped to the side to give himself a few more seconds to recover. He got his hands back up and his feet back under him. Mike aimed another kick at his right hip. LaRusso shifted his weight, moved his left leg forward and his right leg back. At the last second, Mike dropped his leg and twisted his hips. He slammed the back of his heel against the inside of LaRusso's left knee.

It bent sideways.

Johnny's heart dropped.

Daniel screamed.

_'Shit!'_

_'Now! He needs you! Go!'_

Johnny bolted forward.

Mike followed through. His right foot hit the ground, and he lunged with his left. He crossed his wrists and pinned Daniel's left arm between them. That kept him from going down. All of Daniel's weight shifted to his right leg. Mike turned his left hand, wrapped it around Daniel's wrist, and pushed up. His right hand dropped to his side. Mike kept turning, pivoting to his left. He pushed Daniel's arm over his head, pulled him up and in. His right hand shot forward. It looked like a modified reverse punch, but it was too low. It was too far to the outside. And fists didn't reflect sunlight.

"No!"

Daniel turned his head at the sound of Johnny's voice. He lost focus for less than a second, but it was enough. It was more than enough. His eyes widened, and he gasped. He fell forward against Mike's shoulder.

Johnny skidded to a halt and froze.

"I told you," he heard Mike say. "I. Don't. Lose."

The bastard put his hand against Daniel's chest and shoved him away. He cried out, clutched his left side, and crumpled to the ground.

The bloodied knife was still in Mike's hand when he spun to face Johnny.

_'Fuck!'_

_'Move!'_

Johnny was running again. He jumped a small fallen tree and raised his hands as he moved in. He'd waited too long. He was too late. He'd just fucking stood there. He'd just fucking watched.

_'I didn't stop it!"_

_'Calm down. Breathe. Focus. This is your fight now.'_

His first move was a spinning back kick that knocked the knife flying. No way in hell was he letting the douchebag stick him, too. With that out of the way, he attacked.

It wasn't as hard as he'd expected. He was still shaking off that branch to the head. But Mike had just spent the last who-knew-how-long fighting. The asshole was winded. It had taken almost everything he had just to hold his own against Daniel. He'd been seconds away from submission barely a minute before. And his last attack had taken what little had remained.

Johnny paid enough attention to Daniel's position to avoid stepping on him. He struck with everything he had left and then some. His first thought, his only thought, was that he had to drive Mike back. He didn't have time to decide how he wanted it to end. He didn't know if he wanted Mike gone or injured or out cold or what. But he sure as hell wasn't letting him win.

He wasn't letting him near Daniel again, either.

Rustling leaves behind him told him Daniel was pushing himself out of the way. Johnny smiled. He was with it enough to realize he needed to move. And he _could_ move. That was good. Johnny could give his full focus to the panting, bruised, and bleeding asshole in front of him.

Another kick, that time to the side of the dickwad's head. Mike stumbled and fell as Johnny planted his feet. He brought his hands up again and widened his stance. He'd put himself between the motherfucker and Daniel. He took one step forward.

"Come on!" he challenged. "Let's go!"

The piece of shit pushed himself to his feet and smiled.

"Nah, I'm good," Mike said. He wiped at the blood pouring from his nose. "Thanks for the assist."

"What?" Johnny narrowed his eyes. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Mike tipped his head to the side, winked, and took off into the woods without another word.

Johnny watched him go, debating with himself whether or not he should follow. But wasn't that how Daniel had gotten himself into such a mess in the first place? Chasing fuckwads, especially armed fuckwads, through the woods on a mountain wasn't safe. It was a bad idea. It was stupid. Even still, he was on his toes, ready to run, ready to keep the fight going.

A groan and more rustling behind him pulled his attention to more immediate concerns, and he turned around.

"Shit. LaRusso."

He was half-lying/half-sitting, curled forward around his left side and propped up on his elbow, near one of the branches that had gotten buried in the ground when the tree had fallen. His right eye was red and swollen. So was his left jaw. Blood was running down his face from his nose, the corner of his mouth, his busted-open left eyebrow, and a cut on his already-bruising right cheek. His right hand was pressed against his left side, and his left arm was tight against his ribs. He was still trying to push himself away, his eyes focused on nothing, his face a mask of pain and confusion. He was dragging his left leg, which was bent at an odd angle and looked really wrong, even from five feet away and through his jeans.

Johnny swallowed hard, breathing heavily and starting to feel his own aches and pains as he walked forward slowly.

"LaRusso," he said again. "Hey. You okay?"

Well, that was a dumb question. But it got an even dumber answer.

"Fine," he gasped out. "I'm fine. I'm fine."

His shoulders bumped into the tangle of sticks, dirt, roots and leaves behind him, and he collapsed against them. His eyes rolled back in his head as they slid closed.

_'Fuck …'_

_'Fuck!'_


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Johnny is "useless", Daniel is "fine", Robby has a minor meltdown, and Miguel has a plan.

* * *

As he looked down at Daniel's beaten, bloody body and his bent-wrong knee, Johnny came to a realization.

He was useless.

He'd gone after Daniel so he wouldn't have to deal with Mike alone. He'd done it to keep Daniel from sacrificing himself to protect the three of them. He'd done it because he'd promised Robby he'd bring him back safe. He'd done it to stop that damned nightmare from coming true. He'd had every intention of doing all those things. He hadn't done any of them.

Because he'd let a stupid voice in his head talk him out of stepping up and stepping in, and he'd just stood there and watched. He hadn't prevented anything. He'd taken too long to get involved, and when he did … well, if Mike's thanks for the "assist" were even a little sincere, that meant he'd made things worse by distracting Daniel at the worst possible second. The fight was over. The physical threat was defeated and had run away. But the damage had already been done.

Johnny had to push his massive failure aside and figure out what to do next. He was the only one left standing.

Quite literally.

When it came to first aid, he knew nothing. He'd never done it in his life; he'd never even tried. Something about breathing and bleeding and not moving people who were hurt and … it wasn't going to work. He had no idea what he should do.

Daniel was breathing, which was very good. The blood soaking through his sweatshirt said he was bleeding, which was very bad. He could move by himself, at least a little bit, so that was a little bit of good, but he probably shouldn't, and if he did, that would probably be bad. And all that was without even thinking about whatever the hell had happened to his leg, which couldn't be anything other than bad.

It all added up to a whole lot of bad and not nearly enough good. And he didn't know what to do about any of it.

"LaRusso!" He fell to his knees at Daniel's side and put one hand on his shoulder,. The shudders and gasps vibrated up his own arm. For the first time since he'd woken up from his little branch-induced nap, he was almost willing to admit he might be starting to get a bit scared. "Hey!"

_'Don't talk so loud. Do you want Mike to come back?'_

_'I've taken enough advice from you today.'_

It wasn't like the asshole didn't know exactly where they were, anyway. If Mike came back, he'd find them no matter how quietly he talked. "Open your eyes, LaRusso," he said, fighting – and failing – to keep the rising panic out of his voice. "Look at me!"

_'You need to calm down.'_

_'That bastard stabbed him!'_

Daniel didn't do as he was told, and the shaking was getting worse. Holding on to the last shreds of his rapidly-shrinking hope that the silence and tremors were only signs of one hell of an adrenaline let-down starting, he tried again. "Hey, LaRusso." Every time he didn't get the response he was hoping for, his own heartbeat sped up. He grabbed both of Daniel's shoulders and shook him. "Come on, man. Don't do this!"

_'Freaking out about it won't help him.'_

_'Why won't he open his damn eyes?!'_

He took Daniel's chin in his hand and turned his head toward him. "LaRusso!"

_'Calm. Down. Now.'_

_'Shut. The hell. Up!'_

Daniel finally opened his eyes, and he blinked up at Johnny slowly.

Then, he jerked his head away from Johnny's hand, shoved himself backwards and tried to get to his feet.

"No!" Johnny yelled. "Don't get up! You're …!"

As soon as Daniel tried to put weight on his left leg, his body told him – forcefully – that it wasn't happening. With a choked cry of pain, all the blood drained from his face, and he was on his way back down. Johnny had just enough time to catch him before he slammed his head into the branch. But Daniel's fight-or-flight response was still in high gear, and he'd obviously chosen some combination of the two. He pushed himself back further, using only his right leg. Then, he started swinging.

"Stop!" Johnny ducked the punches easily, but as he did, he noticed the dark red stain on Daniel's sweatshirt was starting to spread. "LaRusso, listen to me!" He grabbed Daniel's wrists and pushed them down, pinning his arms to his sides and forcing him to stay still. "It's over. He's gone."

"Get off me!" Daniel kept fighting, trying to pull out of Johnny's grasp, becoming both weaker and more frantic as he did.

"You gotta stop. Do you hear me? You're …"

"Back the fuck off, Mike!"

Johnny jerked as if Daniel had slapped him, and he barely managed to keep hold of him. Was there really not a big enough difference in Daniel's mind between Johnny and the motherfucker who'd stabbed him for him to tell them apart? Patching him up on the outside might be doable – if he could get him to sit still for five minutes, that was – but how the hell did he fix that?

"I'm not Mike," he said softly.

_'He doesn't know me.'_

_'He doesn't_ _**see you** _ _.'_

Johnny spoke again, much more forcefully than before. "LaRusso! Hey! Look at me!" Daniel's struggles were sluggish and unsteady, but he didn't stop trying to pull away. "Quit it."

"I won't let you hurt them. I won't!"

_'He's not listening to me.'_

_'He doesn't_ _**hear you** _ _.'_

"Look at me, LaRusso. Now!" He was shouting right in Daniel's face, but it still didn't seem to be working. "Daniel!"

Daniel's eyes widened, and he went completely still. He blinked again, and just like that, all the fight drained out of him. "John … Johnny?" he breathed out. His voice was raspy, uncertain, and breathless despite how heavily he was breathing. He sounded confused, disoriented. Lost. "What …?"

"Yeah," Johnny said. He was grateful that he'd finally broken through, but he was worried about how much more damage Daniel had done to himself. "It's just me." He released his grip on Daniel's wrists and sat back on his heels. "You with me?"

"Yeah," Daniel said, nodding slowly. His right hand moved up from the ground to rest against his injured side, but he didn't look at it. The movement seemed more instinctive than intentional. "Yeah, I'm … What?"

"Okay," Johnny said, drawing the word out. "Do you know where you are?"

Daniel's brain didn't seem to have caught up yet. His body knew it was hurt, but did the rest of him? Did he even realize what had happened to him? Johnny glanced down at Daniel's side, at the blood starting to run between his fingers.

He'd watched that damn knife slide into Daniel's gut. He’d watched his knee bend sideways. He'd heard him scream and watched him fall. A large part of him still didn't believe it was real.

Daniel closed his eyes briefly, but they shot back open almost immediately. The expression on his face changed as rapidly as it had before, but that time, it went from bewilderment to alarm.

"Where's Mike?"

No, Daniel didn't know he was injured. And he'd decided to stand up again. Johnny didn't move fast enough to stop him that time, either, but it didn't matter. The second attempt ended the same way the first had, right down to Johnny catching him when his knee refused to work.

"Easy," he said. He put his other hand on Daniel's chest, felt the hammering of his heart through skin and clothes, and lowered him to the ground much more gently than he'd have landed on his own. "Take it easy." He held Daniel steady until he was laying mostly flat, with his head and shoulders resting on the leaves. Then he pulled his arm out from behind him and reached for the zipper of the blue sweatshirt. "You need to stay still."

"Where is he?" Daniel asked. He batted Johnny's hands away and looked around as though the last few minutes hadn't happened. He didn't sound hurt or scared like Johnny expected him to, though. He sounded pissed. "Where'd he go?" He pushed himself back against the branch until he was sitting up. "I have to find him. You've gotta go," he muttered. Despite how badly his last two attempts had ended, he was trying to get up again. "You shouldn't be here. Robby … Miguel … "

"Hey!" Johnny put his hand back on Daniel's chest and held him down easily. "Will you _stop_ that?"

"Johnny …"

"Look, man, I agree. I don't want that bastard anywhere near the boys. But you …"

"Don't worry about me. I'm fine." Johnny shook his head, but Daniel didn't seem to notice. "You don’t know this guy, Johnny. The boys aren’t safe. He'll go after them. He said …" He bent his right leg, put his foot flat on the ground, and lifted his head and shoulders. "I have to …"

"Stop!" Johnny pushed him back down for a third time. "Jesus, you're gonna kill yourself. Stop."

"You're not even supposed to be here. You're supposed to be on your way to the hospital. I told them … they were supposed to … Johnny, you've got to take them and get off the mountain!"

"They're already going," he answered. "I sent them to the car before I came after you. They'll be fine."

Daniel shook his head quickly. "But that doesn't get you … You're not … Damn it, listen to me …"

"No, you listen. We can worry about the boys in a few minutes. We need to worry about you first."

"What?" Daniel asked, shaking his head. "You're the one who's hurt. I'm fine." Why did he keep saying that when he so obviously wasn't? "You've got a concussion. You need a doctor. You need to go."

" _I_ need a doctor?" His eyes widened, and he shook his head in disbelief. Where was Daniel getting this stuff? "Whatever, man. But I'm not going anywhere without you, and you're not going anywhere, so …"

"I said I'm fine!" Daniel insisted through clenched teeth. "I just need to …"

"Need to what?" Johnny demanded. "Lose a few more pints of blood than you already have?"

"What?"

"You do know he stabbed you, right?" The blank look on Daniel's face answered that question better than words could have. Johnny tipped his head toward the growing patch of red on Daniel's sweatshirt and the as-yet-unseen stab wound he knew was hidden under it.

Daniel looked down, and his eyes widened. "Oh." He lifted his hand slowly, staring in numbed fascination at the dark red liquid that coated his fingers. "Okay. That’s blood." He looked and sounded painfully confused. "Is that … that's mine?" People went into shock when they were stabbed, right? That had to be what was going on. He was in shock. And shock was more bad to add to the ever-growing list. "I thought he punched me."

"Yeah, well, he did. He just had a knife in his hand when he did it."

"That’s a lot … lot of blood." Daniel pressed his hand back to it, grimacing as he did. A sudden shudder ran through him, and he sucked in a breath. "Okay. That, um … that hurts." The adrenaline was finally wearing off. It wouldn't be much longer before he started feeling everything. "Shit, that really hurts."

_'You need to hurry.'_

"Yeah," Johnny agreed quickly. "I bet it does. So just lay there, and let me see it." Johnny reached for the zipper again, but Daniel pulled away.

"Why?"

"Well," Johnny said slowly. "Do you wanna bleed to death?" Daniel shook his head. "Then I need to look at it." He reached for the sweatshirt once more. "I need to see how bad it is, and figure out how to …"

Daniel flinched. "No, wait."

Johnny pulled his hands back and huffed in exasperation. "What?!"

"The boys." Daniel rolled slightly to his side and reached into the pocket of his jeans. The effort cost him. He paled again, and his head fell to the side, but he didn't stop. Not even when the blood that hand had been holding back started to drip into the dirt.

_On the ground._

"What the hell are you doing?"

Daniel eased himself back, breathing heavily, pulled something out of his pocket and held it out to him. "Call them," he said. "We have to … make sure they're gone."

Johnny looked down at the phone Daniel had just given him, at the cracked glass and the smeared streaks of blood he'd left on both the screen and Johnny's hand as his fingers fell away.

_On his hands._

"I really think we should focus on …"

"Boys first," Daniel insisted. "Then you. Then me."

_'Stubborn, hot-headed, pig-headed, stupid, self-sacrificing, idiotic, son of a …'_

"Alright," Johnny agreed reluctantly, nodding his head. "Okay." Daniel wasn't going to let him do anything for him until he knew the boys were safe, and there was no point in wasting time arguing about it. He wiped the phone on the leg of his jeans, trying his best to ignore the large red streak it left on them.

_On his clothes._

He shook his head to chase the lingering images away. In the nightmare, he'd seen the blood but not known where it was coming from. In reality, he did. He hadn't decided yet if that made things better or worse. What he did know was the faster he made that phone call, the sooner he could do something about it. "How does this thing work?" he asked.

Daniel lifted his hand once more, pressed his thumb against the bottom of the screen, and then tapped the icon for the phone. He leaned back and closed his eyes, and Johnny looked at the list of names that had popped up. Robby's was near the top, just under Amanda, Sam and Anthony.

Johnny pushed the twinge of jealousy aside. Maybe one day, they'd have a conversation about how important Daniel and Robby were to each other, but at that moment, neither of them had time for it. He pressed Robby's name, and when the phone started dialing, he pushed the button to put it on speaker. He looked down at Daniel as he did.

Robby answered on the first ring. _"Mr. LaRusso! Where are you? Are you …?"_

"Robby," Johnny said. "It's me."

_"Dad!"_ He heard Miguel in the background, yelling, _"Sensei!"_ There were a few scuffling sounds, a couple of muttered curses, and then both boys were talking at once, their voices mixing together and fighting to be heard as they shouted questions at him.

_"Did you find him? Where are you? Is he okay? Are you alright? Dad? Sensei? Do you need us …? Do you want us …?"_

"Quiet!" Johnny shouted. Daniel almost smiled as he opened his eyes, and Johnny shook his head in frustration. "One at a time."

_"Did you find him?"_ It was only Robby asking that time. _"Is he okay? Is he hurt?"_

Johnny glanced at Daniel, who was shaking his head. "Don't," he mouthed silently. "Do not tell him."

"I found him," he answered. "Calling from his phone, right? Listen …"

_"Is he hurt?"_ Of course, Robby would notice that he'd only answered one of his questions.

"Listen to …"

_"Dad, is he hurt? Is he okay?"_

"Robby, listen to me!" Johnny commanded. "I've got him, okay?" It would have been a much easier conversation if he lied, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He'd just have to be very careful about what truth he did tell. The look on Daniel's face said there was a damn good reason for not telling Robby he was hurt, and Johnny would follow his lead. At least for the time being.

"I'll get him to my car. We'll be fine. Where are you? Are you gone yet?"

_"Dad …"_

"Did you leave?!"

_"Not yet,"_ Miguel answered. _"We just got to the cars."_

"Okay." It shouldn't have taken them that long to get there. They had to be stalling. They either weren't taking the situation seriously, or they were just straight-up disobeying him. "This is not a game, boys. You have gotta go. This guy, Mike, he …" He looked down at Daniel again. He wanted to tell them everything. He wanted to tell them why they had to leave, what had happened and what would happen if they didn't, but he couldn't. He settled for a seriously understated version of the truth. "He's dangerous."

_"Sensei, what …?"_

_"Dad?"_

"We can deal with him. But take my word for it, the two of you can't handle him alone. We'll be right behind you. But you have to go."

The scuffling sounds came through the speaker again, and Johnny looked down in confusion. It sounded like the boys were fighting over the phone. He heard their raised voices, but he couldn't understand the words. A few seconds later, Robby's voice came through the phone once more.

_"Dad, let me talk to him."_

Daniel was shaking his head slowly, more rolling it back and forth than anything. Johnny tilted his head at him in question.

"He won't go," he whispered. "Robby won't leave."

Johnny put his hand across the microphone. "Why not?" he asked just as quietly.

_"Dad? No, Miguel, shut up. Let me … Dad!"_

"He knows." Daniel let his eyes fall closed again. "He's been scared of … he's known this was coming since … he woke up this morning."

"How?"

_"Back the fuck off, Miguel! I need to talk to Mr. LaRusso!"_

"Nightmare. He had a … a nightmare."

Johnny started in surprise. Robby had a nightmare about Daniel getting hurt. Well, that made two of them, didn't it? And as much as it was messing with his head to watch it come true, what would it do to a sixteen-year-old kid? He filed that away with everything else he was planning on not dealing with later. "What do we do?"

_"Dad, please!"_

Daniel gestured for the phone, and Johnny held it down to him. Daniel shifted slightly on the ground, biting his lip to hold back whatever sound it was he wanted to make. Then he pressed his hand back to his side and took a deep breath.

"Robby."

Johnny was impressed. Daniel's voice sounded almost normal.

_"Mr. LaRusso! Thank God! Are you okay? Are you …?"_

"I'm fine." Luckily, Daniel didn't have the same issue with lying to Robby that Johnny had. It didn't sound as convincing as it had when he'd believed it himself, but it was a pretty impressive performance for a guy who was bleeding all over himself. "I'm right here, kiddo. I'm fine."

_"Mr. LaRusso."_

"You need to listen … to your dad. Do what … what he says." Daniel swallowed hard. He shuddered again, then winced in pain, but he somehow managed to keep most of it out of his voice. "I want – _need_ – you … to go. Okay?"

_"No, Mr. LaRusso. I can't. I …"_

"Robby. Go."

* * *

_"Robby. Go."_

The phone beeped twice, and then it was silent.

"No," Robby whispered, shaking his head.

Miguel reached for the phone in Robby's hand. There was no resistance when he took it. "Sensei. Sensei!" There was no response. "It dropped," he said, looking down at the screen. "We've got three bars. They must be …"

"No." Robby had thrown his sling to the ground and was running back up the trail before Miguel even realized he'd moved.

"Damn it," he muttered, shoving the phone into his jacket as he ran after him. "Robby, stop!"

Robby didn't stop, and he didn't answer him. He stumbled over a small pile of sticks and leaves, and that slowed him down enough to give Miguel the few seconds he needed to catch him. He wrapped his arms around Robby's waist and started pulling him back toward the car.

"No!" Robby was swinging his arms wildly, but he didn't connect with anything. He tried to plant his feet on the ground, but they kept slipping. His movements were uncoordinated, desperate but lacking in direction. That didn't make any sense. Robby knew how to get out of a hold like that, but he'd somehow lost the ability to use everything he'd learned from LaRusso. He wasn't fighting from a place of knowledge and experience.

He was fighting from fear.

"Let me go!" he screamed. "He's hurt. He's gonna … Let go of me!"

Miguel didn't let go. "Stop!" He'd moved them to the side of LaRusso's car, and with one last surge of strength, he turned and slammed Robby's back into the driver's door. "Robby, stop! Listen to me!"

"No," Robby said again, but he wasn't shouting anymore. He was shaking, and Miguel was surprised by the tears that were running down his face. "He said … he told me to go. Just like that. But he was hurt, and he was bleeding, and then … he's dying, Miguel. I know he is. And I can't …"

"What are you talking about?" Miguel demanded. "He's not dying." He leaned down slightly and forced Robby to look at him. The fear in his eyes was real, and Miguel couldn't deny it, even though he had no idea what was causing it. "No one's dying. You just talked to him. You heard them. He's fine. Knock it off." Robby pushed himself away from the car, but Miguel grabbed his upper arms and shoved him into it again. "Stop!"

"They lied," Robby argued. "They did. He's hurt. I have to …"

"Okay." Miguel kept his hands on Robby's shoulders, pinning him to the car, and he knew he was only able to hold him there because Robby was too scared to think straight. "Okay! I believe you, okay? I don't know why I do, but I do. But if that's true, if he's hurt, then the last thing we should do is go running up after them. That's not gonna help anything. What we need to do is go back to the city. Now."

Robby shook his head. "What? No! No, we can't. We have to help them!"

"We _can't_ help them!" Miguel insisted. "Not alone. Sensei just said that. Do you hear me? _We_ can't help them."

Robby turned his eyes toward him, and for the first time since the phone had gone dead, Miguel knew he actually saw him. "What are we supposed to do?" Robby asked. "We can't leave them here."

Miguel nodded. "I don't want to, but we can't do this alone. We have to get help."

"What?"

"Your dad …" Miguel sighed. It was getting easier to say those two words, but they still bothered him. He just didn't have time to worry about why or how much. "I know how he'd want us to handle this. It's just like he told us. Life isn't fair. Life kicks your ass when you aren't expecting it to. That's why he taught us how to fight back when it does."

Robby tilted his head slightly, and Miguel allowed himself a small smile. He pulled his hands away from Robby's arms, confident that he wasn't going to try and run off again. "Sensei is with Mr. LaRusso, right? So whatever's going on up there, he's safe for now. He'll take care of him until we get back. And we will come back."

"Miguel, please …"

"We can't help them alone," he repeated. "But when we come back, Robby, we won't be alone."

"What are you …?"

"We can't strike first," Miguel said. "Not anymore. But we can sure as hell strike hard."

Robby actually grinned at that, and Miguel nodded at him. Robby glanced up the mountain, and then looked down at the ground. "You're right," he said. "Dad's right." He lifted his head and looked Miguel in the eye. "If Mr. LaRusso's hurt, then we make the guy who hurt him regret it."

Miguel pulled the keys out of his pocket and held them out. "You're with me on this?" He had never doubted what they needed to do. He just needed to hear Robby say he understood.

"I'm with you," Robby said. He took the keys from Miguel's hand, closing his fist around them. "No mercy."

* * *

The call dropped before the pained hiss escaped, and Johnny was grateful that Robby didn't hear it. Daniel was rapidly losing the small semblance of control he'd been holding on to. His breathing was speeding up, and he was shuddering with every inhale.

Johnny took one last look at the blank, broken screen of the phone before he put it in his own pocket. He'd wanted to tell the boys to send help. He'd wanted to tell them to get the police, or get an ambulance, something, anything … but he hadn't figured out how to do that without telling them why, and he hadn't gotten the chance, anyway. He'd just have to hope that when they started back down the mountain, they'd find a spot where he could make that call himself.

Daniel closed his eyes and bit his lip, but he couldn't stop the whimper when he pressed his hand back to his side. Whatever had been hiding that pain from him – adrenaline or shock or stubborn refusal to let himself feel it – it wasn't working anymore. Johnny put his thoughts about what would need to happen in the future away and focused on what was happening right in front of him.

"Okay," he said, pushing himself to his feet. "That's enough. Time to stop fucking around." He stepped over Daniel's legs and knelt down at his left side. "I'm looking at this thing right now. And you are gonna lay there and let me."

"No," Daniel protested. "You first. Your head …"

"I have a headache," he admitted. Another understatement, but he had a feeling keeping the full truth from Daniel was more important than keeping it from the boys had been. "I'll live."

"But …"

"No buts. Shut up, and stop stalling."

Daniel didn't argue anymore, but he also didn't relax, and his unwillingness to let Johnny touch him was obvious. Johnny ignored it, because like it or not, Daniel needed help, and he was the only other person there. He removed Daniel's hand from his stomach, placed it on the ground at his side, unzipped the sweatshirt and let it fall open. Daniel pressed his hands against the ground and pushed himself a few inches further up the branch.

"Hold still, damn it."

Daniel balled his hands into fists, and his arms tensed up so much that they started shaking. Johnny felt the trembling against his leg, and he looked up with what he hoped was a reassuring expression. Then he turned away, pulled Daniel's shirt loose from his jeans, and lifted it up.

He'd never seen a stab wound before, so he wasn't sure how it compared to any others, but it wasn't as bad as he'd been afraid it would be. The knife had gone into the meat of Daniel's side, about an inch above his waist and two inches in. The hole looked to be an inch and a half wide or so, but it wasn't even. The right side was clean and straight, but the left was jagged, and the skin was more ripped than cut. It wasn't gaping open, which he figured was good, and the blood wasn't gushing or spurting, but there was still a lot of it, and it was coming out pretty quickly. The way Daniel kept moving around couldn't be helping.

Johnny hadn't paid attention to how long the blade was before he'd kicked it away, so he had no way of knowing how deep it went. And even if he had known, he knew less about anatomy than he did first aid. Had it hit anything important? What organs were in there? Kidney, intestine, liver, lung; what was where? He had no idea, but it was probably best to keep those questions to himself. Daniel might know the answer, but he had enough to worry about.

"It's not so bad," he said with a tight, forced smile. "Just a scratch. Don't be such a girl about it."

Daniel just stared at him.

"You need to stop bleeding."

"I'll get right on that." Daniel's voice caught on the last word, and Johnny watched a wave of pain cross his face. Daniel was watching him closely, growing impossibly paler with every minute that passed, but he was alive and awake and definitely alert. Johnny was going to take those as good signs.

First step: stop the bleeding. He needed to apply pressure, and he needed to bandage it. He'd seen a first aid kit back at camp, and he was sure that had bandages in it, but they would have to get to it first. Literally all they had with them was the clothes on their backs. Using his own shirt would be the easiest, but then he'd just have his jacket. If they ran into Mike again, which he was almost certain they would, he couldn't have it sticking to his skin and restricting his movement. Plus, it was chilly on that mountain, and he didn't really want to be walking around shirtless.

Daniel's sweatshirt would be easy enough to get off and use, but blood loss made people cold, didn't it? He'd need that to keep him warm.

That left Daniel's t-shirt, but how did he get it off? The normal way would mean a whole lot of movement for someone who shouldn't be moving. He'd never been stabbed, so he had no idea what it felt like, but he could only imagine it hurt like hell. Pulling a shirt over his head would probably cause more pain than Daniel could deal with.

"We've gotta get your shirt off." Daniel's eyes narrowed with the unasked question. Johnny looked at him and shrugged in apology. "Need it for a bandage."

Daniel moved like he was going to push himself up again, but Johnny raised his hand. "I _said_ stop doing that. Stay there." He looked around quickly as a thought occurred to him. "Got an idea. Hang on a second."

He stood up and jogged to where he thought the knife had landed after he’d kicked it. It didn't take him long to find it. He picked it up, examining the length and width of the blade and wiping the blood off on his jeans as he walked back to Daniel's side. He’d been right that it was only an inch and a half wide, but the damn thing had teeth all down one side, and it was at least four inches long.

If there was anything important in that part of the human body, the knife had gone deep enough to hit it. And tear the hell out of whatever it was.

_'Fuck.'_

_'Fuck. Fuck!'_

There was nothing Johnny could do about the stab wound other than what he was already doing, so he dismissed the shape and size of the blade from his mind as he knelt back down. No matter how deep it was, no matter how much damage it had done that he couldn't see, the most important thing was getting it to stop bleeding.

"There's not many ways to get that shirt off," he said. "This is the easiest." He held the knife up and lifted the blade toward Daniel's shoulder.

He thought it was pretty clear what he was doing. It never occurred to him that Daniel would think he was doing anything else. Until he reached for his shirt collar, and Daniel flinched and gasped like he was going to hit him. Or maybe like he was going to stab him. Again.

Johnny closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He probably should have put more effort into keeping the blade out of Daniel's sight. The thing looked scary as hell, and, of course, seeing it would freak the hell out of the guy whose body it had been shoved into. But it was too late to stop him from seeing it, and there was nothing he could do about it. It wasn't like he could just stop doing what he was doing because Daniel flipped a bit out.

But he also couldn't ignore the panic and fear on his face.

"You really think I’m gonna cut you?" Daniel shook his head quickly, but he didn’t say a word. His wide eyes said it all, anyway. "I’m gonna cut your shirt off. It’ll hurt less than pulling it over your head."

Johnny pulled the shoulders of Daniel's sweatshirt down and out of his way, then he cut through the seams at the top and sides of the t-shirt as quickly and carefully as he could. Daniel was as tense as a coiled spring. His eyes were locked on the blade that hovered just above his skin, and he was obviously forcing himself to stay still. Johnny pulled the two halves of the shirt away, wadded one half into a rough square, and pressed it against the still-bleeding wound.

Daniel hissed.

"Sorry," Johnny muttered. "Gotta put pressure on it. Sorry." He pressed down on it for a minute, then he lifted Daniel's right hand from the ground and laid it back across his stomach. "Hold that," he said. Daniel held it. Johnny picked up the other half of the shirt and ripped it into strips. "We need to wrap it so it'll stay there," he said. "You're gonna have to be sitting up for that."

Daniel still didn't say anything, but he pushed his left hand against the ground once again. Johnny rolled his eyes as he closed the knife and slipped it into his back pocket. How many times did he have to tell him to stop trying to move by himself before Daniel actually stopped?

"You're a stubborn little shit, LaRusso. I'll give ya that," he said. He slid his arm around Daniel's lower back and pulled him up. "Just let me. I got ya."

Once he was upright, he did a passable job of keeping himself that way. But his muscles were so tight, he looked like he was going to snap in half.

"Come on," Johnny said. "Relax, will ya?"

He didn't understand why Daniel was fighting him so hard. He knew it had to hurt, but there was more to it than that. Daniel wasn't just in pain; he was scared. His whole body was tense, his breathing was shaky, and his eyes were closed. But most alarming, Johnny realized, was that the guy who never shut up had stopped talking.

Daniel was afraid of him, but why? When had he ever done anything to hurt …? Oh. Well, shit.

Daniel's body was still rigid against him, and if anything, the tremors were getting worse. He turned his head toward him.

"Daniel," he said softly.

Daniel opened his eyes and looked back at him.

"Trust me. Okay? I'm not gonna hurt you."

The words felt right. It seemed like Daniel needed to hear them, and maybe he even needed to say them. But they were more intense than he was comfortable with, and he couldn't let them just hang there.

"I don't have to. You're doing a good enough job hurting yourself. Just lean against me, okay?"

Daniel nodded, and slowly but surely, he forced himself to relax against Johnny’s chest. As Johnny started wrapping the makeshift dressings around him, Daniel's breathing slowed, and the tension in his muscles started to fade away. Less than a minute later, his head was resting against Johnny's shoulder, and Johnny was supporting his entire weight. Had he done that on purpose, or did he not have a choice?

"You pass out on me?" he asked.

Daniel shook his head slowly.

Johnny smiled a little to himself as the other man's hair brushed against his neck, but the whole situation was getting way too deep for him to deal with. He had to get back into comfortable territory.

"Gettin' a little familiar, don't ya think, LaRusso?" he joked half-heartedly.

"Are you … hitting on me?"

Johnny snorted, taking some comfort in the teasing. That was better. Daniel was at least trying to act normal. After the uncomfortable tension of the past few minutes, it felt good.

"Yeah, you wish, Danielle," he answered. "Since Amanda's probably gonna dump your ass as soon as she gets a look at what that bastard did to your face." He put one final knot in the second of the two strips he'd used to hold the t-shirt bandage in place. "Okay, got it."

Next step: keep him warm. Daniel's shirt was gone, his sweatshirt was hanging open, and he'd gone from shaking with tension to shivering with chills. There was no denying that the skin he felt against his neck was colder than it should have been. With Daniel still leaning against his chest, Johnny carefully slipped out of his red jacket and wrapped it around his shoulders.

"What are you doing?"

"Helping," Johnny answered as he lowered him back down. "Better?"

Daniel grinned softly. "Yeah," he said. A flush had risen to his cheeks, though whether it was from embarrassment, cold, or something else, Johnny didn't know. "Thanks."

"I'm gonna want that back. So, don't get attached to it. And try not to bleed on it."

Daniel's shoulders shook from a small laugh. "I promise not to get my blood on your clothes." Johnny looked at him in confusion, but he just shook his head. "Never mind."

Johnny zipped the sweatshirt back up, pulled the jacket tighter around Daniel's shoulders, then settled on his heels again, satisfied that he'd done some good. It wasn't enough, but for the time being, it would have to suffice. He only needed to keep Daniel from bleeding to death long enough to get back to the first aid kit at camp or for the paramedics he was going to call to show up, whichever came first.

"So," he said carefully. He had a thousand questions, but there was only one that he felt he needed the answer to before things went any further. "Who are we dealing with here? That Mike guy … who exactly is that son of a bitch?"

"That son of a bitch," Daniel answered, "is Mike Barnes."

"Mike Barnes." Johnny rolled the name around in his head. He'd heard it before. "Wait. That's the guy …?"

Daniel nodded. "… who got Cobra Kai banned."

Johnny hated Mike Barnes. The asshole had ambushed them. He'd cold-cocked him with a tree branch. He'd beaten Daniel bloody, screwed up his leg, and stabbed him. _And_ he'd gotten his dojo banned from the All Valley tournament?

"What a dick."

Daniel actually chuckled, then coughed, then winced at the pain both of those things caused. "At the very least."

There was a whole story there, Johnny knew – the story Daniel had been starting to tell him before their camping trip had taken a turn into the Twilight Zone. He both wanted and needed to know it, and he had a feeling he'd know it all before the day was out. But at that moment, there was one much more important detail to worry about.

They couldn't stay where they were. Mike knew where to find them, and any medical help Johnny might be able to call wouldn't. They had to move. They had to get off the damned mountain. But to do that, Daniel was going to have to walk.

"Okay, so, we've got the bleeding thing fixed. What about the other one?"

Daniel's gaze slid from Johnny's face to his own leg. He clenched his teeth and let his head fall back again. "Why is it always my knee?"

Daniel's leg looked awful. It was bent in a direction knees weren't supposed to bend, and the denim didn't hide the fact that something was sticking out from the side of it.

"So, what'd he do to it?" Johnny asked, though he was pretty sure he knew the answer. He'd seen it before, after all. He'd seen it in person in December 1984 and in countless nightmares since. He'd seen it less than a week earlier, standing on the side of the mat, when the past and present had collided rather spectacularly in his mind. "Is it broken?"

Daniel lifted his head. "No," he answered distractedly. "It's dislocated." He grit his teeth and tensed the muscles in his thigh, groaning as he did. Johnny watched, confused, as he did it twice more, then planted his right foot flat on top of his left ankle, pushed back, and did it again.

"What are you doing?"

"Trying …" Daniel grunted through his teeth. "To put it … back …"

"You can do that?"

Daniel didn't look up. "Most of the time." He hissed and winced and went completely white every time he tensed that leg, but he kept trying. "If I can … straighten it out …" He was shaking, gasping for breath, digging his left hand into the ground next to his thigh, and pressing his right hand harder against his side. It didn't take a brain surgeon to figure out he was hurting himself more than he was helping. Again.

Johnny couldn't watch anymore.

"Well, stop!" he said, smacking Daniel's arm with the back of his hand. "It doesn't look like it's working, and you're gonna start bleeding again and ruin all my hard work."

"I can't." Daniel barely got the words out before he collapsed against the branch. He was pale, trembling, and panting from the exertion. "Can't move it … won't go back …"

Johnny shifted nervously on the ground, very aware of just how screwed they were. Mike Barnes was still out there somewhere. For all Johnny knew, he was hiding in the trees, watching everything they did and listening to every word they said. If he decided to attack them, they were sitting ducks. There was no way Daniel could fight, and with the way Johnny's last attempt at protecting him had ended, he was seriously beginning to doubt he'd be much use, either.

And what about the boys? Had they done what they'd been told to do? Had they actually left?

With no signal, he couldn't even call them to make sure. Part of him wanted to run down the mountain himself to check on them, but there was no way he could. He wouldn't leave Daniel behind, alone, injured and incapacitated. Especially not when he knew there was a crazy bastard out in those woods who apparently wanted nothing more than to see him dead.

Again, it smacked him in the face just how badly they had to get out of there. Both of them. Daniel needed a hospital, and the pounding in Johnny's head was getting bad enough that he was willing to admit to himself that Daniel was probably right, and he needed one, too. But, if Daniel couldn't even get his leg to move, to say nothing of hold his weight, there was no way in hell they could leave.

"Now what?" he asked.

Daniel closed his eyes again and sighed deeply as he leaned his head back.

"You're gonna have to do it."


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the theme is "control": Johnny takes it, Daniel gives it, Robby feels in it, and Miguel starts to lose it. And Mike is out of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings in this chapter for: leg/knee/joint issues and a minor medical procedure being performed by an amateur. Also, more non-canon but in-character racial slurs. Mike is an ass.

* * *

"I'm gonna have to do what?"

Daniel didn't mean what Johnny thought he meant, did he? He couldn't.

"Fix my knee."

Yeah, that's what he'd thought he meant.

"Nope," he answered quickly. "No way, man."

"You don't have a choice," Daniel said. "We don't have a choice."

"No, I do have a choice. And I choose not to go yanking around on your leg when it looks like _that_." He gestured toward the swollen, misshapen joint with his right hand, then wiped the back of it across his mouth. He hadn't even seen it yet, but the way it looked through the jeans … God, it was going to be gross.

"Johnny."

"No."

"Okay," Daniel said with a tired shrug. "I guess I'll just … stay here then."

Johnny rolled his eyes. "Well, that's not happening, either."

"Look, you can fix my leg, and we can leave. Or, you don't, I stay on the ground, and you leave without me. Not seeing a third option here."

The pain on Daniel's face, in his eyes and voice made Johnny feel guilty about stalling. The guy couldn't even finish a sentence without stopping to breathe in the middle. But, damn it, he couldn't do it. Yeah, maybe he could improvise enough first aid to keep someone from bleeding to death, but he was pretty sure bones were meant to go in very specific places. When they weren't where they belonged, he should definitely leave it up to someone who knew what they were doing to put them back. He shrugged and looked away.

"I'll just carry you."

Daniel snorted. "You're not carrying me."

"You saying I can't carry your skinny ass, LaRusso?" Johnny's insulted tone was only partly feigned.

"My ass isn't as skinny as it used to be," Daniel shot back. "But, no. I'm saying there's no reason for you to carry me. If you fix my knee, I should be able to walk."

Johnny dropped his head and stared at the ground. "You're beat up enough," he said. "No point in me making it worse."

"You won't." Daniel was being way too patient. He was the one who was hurt, damn it. Why was he comforting and reassuring Johnny? If anything, it should have been the other way around.

He shook his head and tried to talk his way out of it again, anyway. "You can't tell me it's not gonna hurt."

"Oh, no," Daniel admitted. "It's gonna hurt like a son of a bitch. But it'll hurt a hell of a lot less than it does now when you're done."

Johnny bit his lip.

"My leg, it … it hurts, Johnny," Daniel said softly. "It really, really hurts. And I'd really … like you to make it stop." There should have been tears in his eyes, but there weren't. Johnny definitely remembered him crying from the pain when they were kids. Just how many times had he been through it in the years since, to be able to hold it in like that? "I'm asking … I just … I need your help. Please."

Johnny knew how hard it had been for him to say those words to Daniel. It had to have been just as hard for Daniel to say them to him. What he'd been asking for hadn't been half as important, hadn't had nearly as much riding on it, and Daniel had still ended up saying yes. Who the hell was he to say no to him?

Daniel was in pain, and he was the only one who could stop it.

He rose up slightly on his knees, nodded his head slowly, and finally looked Daniel in the eye. "You sure about this?"

Daniel grinned tiredly and leaned his head back. "Come on, ya big baby," he said, not unkindly. "You're wasting time. Just get it over with."

"Okay," he agreed reluctantly. "Okay, yeah. Let's do this." He moved to his left, positioning himself next to Daniel's knee, and he ran his hands down his face. "I can do this." He rubbed his thighs a couple of times, and then he reached for the knife in his back pocket.

"Don't." Daniel's voice stopped him cold. Oh, yeah. He had a problem with knives. At least, he had a problem with that particular knife. How'd he forgotten about that so fast?

For a few seconds, he considered indulging him. Daniel had been through more than enough for one day, with the promise of more ahead. If there was anything Johnny could do to make it easier for him, he would do it. But one look between the leg of those jeans and the shape and size of that knee, and he was shaking his head.

"No," he said. "There's no way I can pull it up high enough, and you know it."

"These are my favorite jeans." The casualness in Daniel's voice was forced, and it was too obvious to miss, but Johnny pretended he didn't hear it. "Besides, I don't want to walk around with my pant leg flapping open." There was an almost innocent hopefulness in those words, and Johnny found himself wanting to give in. But he couldn't.

They both knew the real reason Daniel didn't want to see that knife again. They both knew why he didn't want it close to him. But they also both knew what he was asking Johnny to do was impossible.

"I get it," Johnny said. "I do. But I'm not even going to try to get them past that. It would …" He stopped himself short of saying it would hurt Daniel too much. Why that suddenly mattered to him, he wasn't exactly sure, but that was one more thing he didn't have either the time or inclination to think about. "I can't do that. I have to cut them. So, just … close your eyes or something, okay?"

Daniel took a deep breath. "Okay. You're right. Okay." He nodded slowly and closed his eyes. "Just, please, don't let it …"

"I won't," Johnny promised.

Daniel dug his fingers into the dirt.

"You can do this," Johnny said. He wasn't sure if he was talking to Daniel or himself, but he didn't think it really mattered. They both needed the pep talk, anyway. He started slicing the denim, slowly, carefully, breathing deeply as he did. "We can do this."

Daniel tensed and groaned as the blade got closer to his knee. Johnny wondered if it was the occasional tugs he was having to make on the knife causing that, or if the whole idea of it being less than half-an-inch from his skin was screwing with his head that badly.

"I'm probably gonna scream. Ignore me."

Johnny nodded. "I can do that." It wouldn't be the first time. "Not a problem."

"No matter what I say. Once you start, do not stop until you feel …"

The higher the knife got, the less room there was between the jeans and Daniel's leg, and the harder it was to move it forward without letting it touch his skin. Every move of Johnny's hand resulted in another violent yank on that knee. It didn't matter how slowly he moved; it didn't help. He started cutting faster, trying to get it over with as quickly as possible, and suddenly, Daniel's hand was wrapped around his wrist, fingers tightening with bruising force.

"Christ," Daniel gasped out, lifting his shoulders away from the branch. Johnny stopped, but Daniel shook his head forcefully. "No. Don't … don't stop. The faster, the better. I'm fine." He leaned back again, biting his lip and closing his eyes. "It's fine. Keep going."

Johnny gave the knife one last, quick pull, and the denim gave way, splitting open like an over-ripe tomato. He flinched and sucked in an involuntary gulp of air when he finally saw what had been hidden beneath it. Daniel's knee wasn't just swollen and bent wrong. It was a grotesque, distorted, red and black and purple mess. It didn't even look like it belonged on a human.

"Jesus _fuck_ , LaRusso," he breathed. He put his left hand on top of the fingers Daniel still dug into his wrist. "Are you really sure about this?"

Daniel lifted his head and looked down at his leg with another deep, shaking inhale. "Oh, yeah," he said. He smiled half-heartedly. "But that … was the easy part."

"Shit."

Daniel released his grip on Johnny's wrist and dug his fingers into the dirt again. Johnny closed the knife and put it back in his pocket, hoping he'd never have to make Daniel look at the damn thing again.

"Now what?"

"Okay. You see that big lump on the side there?" Of course, he did. At that moment, he didn't see anything else. "That's my kneecap. It's not supposed to be there."

"Figured that out already."

"So, you're gonna put it back. Where it belongs. In the middle. Have to do it fast. Do it slow, you'll be … torturing me. Got it?"

Johnny nodded again, still transfixed by the sight in front of him. "You really fix this by yourself?"

Daniel shook his head. "Not this bad. Mr. Miyagi always …" His voice faded away. "Dislocated joints … prone to re-injury. Bump it on something, twist it wrong, step on it wrong, it goes out. I got used to it. But he never …" He took another deep breath. "Learned to fix it. But when it was bad, he did it. Never let me watch. Never even let me see it. So, this … this is a first."

"I'm honored," Johnny deadpanned.

"Just remember, once you start, can't stop until you feel it."

"Feel what?"

Daniel smirked. "Hard to describe. Believe me. You'll know …" He tapped the side of his left thigh. "Put your right hand here."

Johnny did.

"Gonna use the heel of your hand, side of your thumb. Gonna push it sideways."

That was all he had to do? That didn't sound so hard.

"Should move pretty easily. May have to use some force … if it doesn't want to go."

That really didn't sound that bad.

"You'll feel it. And hear it. You'll know about … half a second before I do."

Johnny didn't know if the pain was worse or better or the same, but Daniel's breathing hadn't slowed down any. He also wasn't always bothering with complete sentences anymore, almost as if the effort to form them was too much for him. He was looking off into the distance, apparently trying to distract himself from what was about to happen, even as he was explaining how to do it.

It was easier to do that kind of stuff while the person you were doing it to was preoccupied, wasn't it? That's how it always went in the movies anyway.

"First, you …"

Johnny pressed his hand against the protruding bone and pushed it toward the inside of Daniel's leg as hard as he could.

"Stop!"

It was like someone threw a switch. One second, Daniel was calm and talking, and the next, he was screaming bloody murder. He'd said it would hurt, right? He'd said he'd scream, to ignore him, to keep going no matter what.

Johnny kept going.

"No! Not yet! Stop! Stop!" Daniel threw his head back again, bellowed in agony, and grabbed Johnny's wrist hard enough to grind the bones together. Then he reached across himself and punched him in the chest. "Fuckin' stop!"

Johnny's stomach clenched. Daniel wasn't just reacting to the pain. Whatever he'd just done, he'd done it wrong. Despite Daniel's belief that he wouldn't, he'd made it worse. He knew he had. He pulled his hand away like he'd been burned.

Daniel let go of Johnny's wrist again, jerked his whole body to the right, and threw up.

"Oh, Jesus," Johnny muttered. He leaned forward and put his right hand on Daniel's back. "Shit, LaRusso, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't … I … God …"

Daniel reached back blindly with his left hand, grabbed the front of Johnny's shirt, and pulled himself up. He lifted his right hand shakily and swiped at his mouth with the back of his arm. Johnny moved his hand to Daniel's upper arm as he tried to steady himself.

"That …" he gasped, "… was wrong."

Yeah, that was pretty fucking obvious. "What'd I do? I screwed it up."

"Remember … torture thing?"

"Shit."

Daniel shook his head to clear it. "No, s'okay. I just … didn't finish telling … what to do. My fault. My fault. S'okay." No, it wasn't Daniel's fault. It was Johnny's fault. Anybody with half a brain could see that. "Try … again."

Johnny shook his head and kept his hands as far from Daniel's leg as possible.

"Listen to me. Do exactly … what I say. It'll work." He sounded so sure, but the pain in his voice was something Johnny couldn't ignore. "But … do that again … punching you in the face." Johnny looked up, horrified, and he was surprised to see an exhausted but somehow playful grin on Daniel's face. "Okay?"

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, okay. If I torture you, you can punch me in the face. That's fair."

Daniel tapped his thigh again. "Right hand here. Thumb against the bone. **Don't** push yet." Johnny did as he was told. "Left hand on my ankle." Johnny wrapped his fingers around it. "You have to … pull the bone down. Not far. Give the kneecap … room to move. And have to … straighten my leg. While you're pushing. That's what … what was missing."

"How long does it take?"

"Do it right … couple seconds. Do it wrong … never work."

Johnny heard the shaking in his voice, looked up at him, and saw the pinch around his eyes. He was trying to downplay how much pain Johnny had just caused him, but he couldn't hide it all. In truth, he couldn't hide any of it. Johnny pulled his hands away and sat back again.

"What … are you doing?" Daniel asked. "Got it now."

"Yeah," Johnny admitted. "I think I do. But I just fucked it up a whole lot worse, didn't I? And that's not gonna go away like it would have. Is it?"

Daniel shrugged reluctantly. "Probably not. But unless you've got … morphine …"

Johnny leaned forward and grabbed the front of the jacket he'd draped around Daniel's shoulders. "Not quite," he said as he reached into the inside pocket. When he sat back, he had a flask in his hand and a smile on his face. "But close enough."

Daniel rolled his eyes. "What is this? Some kind of … bad buddy western?"

Johnny snorted, unscrewed the cap, and handed it to him. "Just drink it."

Daniel sniffed it and turned his head away. "God. What is that?"

"Strong," Johnny answered. "Drink it." Daniel put the flask to his lips, threw his head back, and pulled a face. "More," Johnny said.

Daniel took another swig, and that one made him cough. He grabbed his side and almost doubled over, then flopped back, panting. "S'awful. Gonna puke … again."

"No, you're not. You're gonna like it in a minute," Johnny promised. "Finish it. All of it."

Daniel tipped the flask twice more, finishing it off in two big swallows. Johnny knew what the man looked like when he was drunk, though he preferred their first drinking experience – even as badly as it had ended – to the way the second one was starting. He knew what to watch for. He didn't know how much Daniel drank normally, but he knew he was buzzed after two martinis. The whiskey he'd just tossed back was stronger than any martini. When Daniel's eyes fell closed and the flask slid out of his hand, Johnny took it away from him and smirked.

"You're a cheap date, LaRusso."

"Been called worse," Daniel muttered. "By you."

He hadn't expected it to take long, but had it actually hit him already?

"Yeah, well." Johnny shrugged and put his hands back on Daniel's thigh and ankle. "I'm an excellent judge of character."

"You're mean."

Yeah, he was drunk. It had only been a couple of minutes. How'd that happened so fast? It had happened too damn fast. No, Daniel wasn't a big guy by any definition, and he had just puked up his lunch, but …

_'You didn't think that through, did you?'_

_'Crap.'_

Johnny closed his eyes. Four or five shots of whiskey at a bar after dinner left him staggering and stumbling in the streets. And he'd convinced a man who was at least thirty pounds lighter than him to down almost that much, in barely a minute, on an empty stomach.

_'This is going to be … interesting.'_

_'You can shut up and go away again.'_

"And I … am not trash."

His stomach dropped at the words. He thought about all the names he'd called Daniel through the years. Had he ever called him that? He didn't remember. He didn't really want to remember, but he had to keep the conversation going. He had to keep Daniel talking, even if it was a lousy topic to get into at that moment.

"I never called you trash." For all he knew, that might be true. He was going to pretend it was, even if it wasn't. He tightened his hand around Daniel's ankle, running his eyes up his leg, trying to figure out where the middle of it actually was. It was harder than it should have been. "I called you a twerp. A worm. Definitely an asshole. Probably a prick. Said I don't trust you. Called your family rotten."

He regretted the words the second they passed his lips, but he couldn't take them back. He was supposed to be taking care of Daniel's current wounds, not digging up old ones and making them worse.

_'You're not helping, Lawrence.'_

_'I'm shutting up. You should, too.'_

"Not rotten, either."

"I know." It wasn't enough to make up for everything that had happened, everything he'd done and said, and he knew it, but he didn't have time for anything else. He took a shaky breath, steadied his grip, and focused.

It was time.

Johnny pulled down on Daniel's ankle, felt his whole lower leg move, and the kneecap slipped out from under his thumb. Johnny followed the shifting bone with his hand, pulling Daniel's foot toward him as everything below his knee slid to the side.

Drunk or not, that had to hurt. Daniel's head shot up, eyes first wide-open and then squeezed shut. His right leg was shaking violently, and his fists were slamming into the ground by his hips rapidly and repeatedly. Why he didn't just let it out, Johnny didn't know, but he was going to put another hole in his lip if he kept biting it like that.

Johnny heard a slight pop at the same time he felt a snap beneath his thumb, and the scream finally escaped. But then it was over. The leg in his hands was straight, the protruding bone was back where it belonged, and – the best part – Daniel had stopped screaming, and his whole body had gone slack.

He'd done it.

He couldn't make himself look up, though. The words still hung in the air between them, and he wasn't ready to face them. He'd spent so much of the past thirty-four years blaming Daniel for everything that had gone wrong with his life, spent more than three decades hating him. But it wasn't all Daniel's fault, and he'd been wrong to think it was. He'd been wrong to say Daniel LaRusso was rotten to the core. He was beginning to realize he'd been wrong about a lot of things.

Daniel had been willing to sacrifice himself, and had almost done it, to protect Johnny and the boys. He'd refused to let Johnny look at his injuries until he knew the boys were safe. He hadn't let him tell Robby he was hurt because he wanted to make sure the boys got away from Mike. He'd been more worried about Johnny's head than he was about his dislocated kneecap and the bleeding hole in his side.

_'Rotten assholes don't do stuff like that.'_

_'I know they don't.'_

"LaRusso, I …" He lifted his head only to see Daniel shaking his.

"Hey, Johnny?" The grin both surprised him and made him smile a bit in response. "Know what?"

"What?"

"You don't … trust me … but I … trust you …"

Johnny didn't know what to say to that, and even if he had, it wouldn't have mattered.

Daniel had passed out.

* * *

"We did the right thing."

Miguel's voice took Robby by surprise, and he glanced over at him. Neither of them had said much in the ten minutes since they'd left the mountain. The stereo wasn't even on. Robby had been using the silence to focus himself on the task they'd laid out for themselves. He'd assumed Miguel was doing the same.

It appeared, however, that Miguel had other things on his mind.   
  
"Didn't we?"

Robby nodded as he turned his eyes back to the road. "We did," he said. "I don't like it, either. I want to be up there with them more than anything. But you were right. We did the only thing we could."

Robby was struck by how quickly they'd changed places, and he wasn't comfortable with it. He'd only just started believing that leaving had been the best of the two terrible choices they'd had. That it would work. That it would be worth it. That it was the only way they could help the two men they'd left behind. As uncertain as he'd been, and still was, he didn't know if he was the best person to convince Miguel of any of that. If the guy who'd decided what they needed to do was starting to doubt what they'd done …

"We couldn't do it alone."

Miguel was staring out the window, watching the trees fly by as they sped down the two-lane highway. "Yeah. I guess." He didn't sound very believable.

"They need us, but we need help. This is how we get it." He was repeating the words Miguel had said to him, the same words he'd been saying to himself, trying to persuade his heart to shut up and listen to his head. The whole thing had been Miguel's idea. He'd known exactly how to apply the Cobra Kai philosophy to their situation. He'd believed they could help, if they did it his way. He'd talked Robby into it in the first place. If he needed a little of that same reassurance from him, well, Robby guessed he could give it to him.

He owed him at least that much.

"Are you listening to me? Miguel?"

"No," Miguel said. "You're right. We had to." His voice was growing stronger, and the faith he'd shown in the plan from the start was coming back. "We wouldn't have had a chance. It'll be better this way." He pushed himself up straighter in his seat, and Robby let out a silent sigh of relief. "Yeah. We got this." Then, after a few more seconds of silence, Miguel said, "Who do you think that Mike guy is, anyway?"

"Someone Mr. LaRusso knows that my dad doesn't." He shook his head and shrugged. "Why does it matter who he is? What matters is what he's doing."

"It would be easier," Miguel said. "If we knew something about him, I mean. If we knew what we're gonna be up against. We need to think about what we're walking into. Does he do karate, too? Is that how Mr. LaRusso knows him? Is he any good at it?"

"He has to be," Robby pointed out. "Mr. LaRusso's afraid of him, and I've never seen him be scared of anyone."

"I guess that's true. Sensei was on edge, too, and he's not scared of anyone, either."

Robby bristled inwardly at Miguel trying to tell him about his own father, as if he didn't know him, but he took a deep breath and pushed the feeling down. After all, until that afternoon, he hadn't had a real conversation with the man in more than six months, and that had been just another fight. Miguel spent time with him every day. He knew Mr. LaRusso better than Miguel did, didn't he? It would make sense for Miguel to know Johnny better than Robby did, too, and for the same reason. But Robby still thought he was wrong about something.

"I don't think Dad was so much scared," he said. "I think, weird as it sounds, he was almost as worried about Mr. LaRusso as I was. As I am."

"And as I am about him." Miguel shifted in the seat and turned to face him for the first time since they'd been driving. "Do you think …" His voice trailed off, and he shook his head. "No, never mind."

"Do I think what?"

"Well, I was just wondering. Why didn't they tell us the truth, either of them? Mr. LaRusso lied to us about Mike, because he didn't want us to know he was scared, but we really need to know, right?"

Robby nodded again. "Yeah, but, he didn't exactly have a choice, did he? I mean, the guy was standing right there. Who knows what he'd have done if Mr. LaRusso had said anything."

"I guess," Miguel said, thoughtfully. "But then, Sensei didn't tell us why we should leave, only that we had to. And if you're right about Mr. LaRusso being hurt, then they both lied to us about that. So why did they do that? Don't they trust us?"

Robby had thought about that a few times himself, wondered why they hadn't told them the truth, and he'd come to a conclusion that made a lot of sense. "I think that was my fault," he said.

"How is it your fault?"

"Because I had this … this stupid dream," he admitted. "Nightmare. About Mr. LaRusso. And it's been messing with me all day. So when I heard him saying the things he said, when I thought it was coming true, I … I kinda flipped out."

Miguel smiled crookedly. "Kinda?"

"Okay, fine. I freaked the fuck out. But, anyway, I think they probably thought that if they told us the truth, I wouldn't leave. And if I didn't leave, then you probably wouldn't leave. And then we'd still be there, and we'd all four be in danger, and I … I think they were right." He shook his head again. "No, I know they were, because I almost didn't leave." He glanced over at Miguel once more. "If it wasn't for you, I would have stayed. And I'd have gone running off after them. And as bad as the whole thing is, I'd have made everything worse."

"It's not just you, ya know," Miguel said. "I wanted to stay, too. And for what it's worth, part of me kinda wishes we had. It's like, I know we didn't have a choice, and I know we're doing the right thing, but I still feel like we …" Miguel stopped talking and turned to stare out the window again.

"Ran away and abandoned them." Robby finished the sentence for him. "Yeah. So do I."

"Does it make you feel better to know they wanted us to?" Miguel asked. "That they ordered us to?"

"No," Robby answered, shaking his head. "It doesn't. Not really."

"But …"

"But we're going back." He spoke the words forcefully, both for his own sake and for Miguel's. "We're not leaving them there. We're going to go back, and whatever the hell went wrong up there, we're gonna fix it. We're gonna help them." As he spoke the words, he found himself finally, honestly, truly believing them. "We're gonna strike as hard as we can, and we're gonna save them."

Miguel turned back toward him, a confident smile on his face and a determined look in his eyes. "Damn right, we are."

A sudden ding from the dashboard took them both by surprise. It was followed quickly by another, then, a few seconds later, two more.

"What's that?" Miguel asked.

Robby looked down at the display, and he wrinkled his forehead at what he saw. "Tire pressure gauge," he said, pointing at the red numbers in front of him. "We've got a flat tire."

Miguel looked out the window and down at the road, as if he could see the tires from where he was sitting. "Which one?"

"Um …" That couldn't be right, could it? How was that even possible? "All four of them?"

"What?" Miguel spun back around in surprise.

"Mike must have slashed the tires." It was the only answer that made any sense. There was no other way all four of them could have gone flat at the same time. "He had to have. I bet he was trying to keep anyone from leaving."

"Why did it take so long? And shouldn't we pull over?"

Robby shook his head. "There's no point. Even if we could change one of them, we'd still have three flats. And it doesn't matter, anyway, because Audis don't come with spares."

Miguel's eyes widened. "Who the hell thought that was a good idea?!"

"No, it's okay. They're designed that way," Robby explained. "They've got run-flats. We can go at least 50 miles on them."

"How far are we from the city?"

Robby glanced out the window, looking for something that would tell him exactly where they were. "Probably another twenty? No more than twenty-five. We'll make it back. We'll be okay."

"Okay, yeah," Miguel said. "So we can get to the Valley. But what do we do then? How are we supposed to get back up there with four flat tires?"

Robby smiled confidently. He finally had an actual part to play in the whole fiasco. Car problems were something he knew how to fix. "We just need to get new ones."

"On a Saturday? And how much do tires for this thing cost, anyway?" Miguel was getting frustrated and anxious, but Robby's smile didn't fade. For the first time since he'd gotten out of bed, he actually felt like he could control something. "They can't be cheap. How much money do you have? Because I've got maybe ten bucks in my pocket."

"We don't need it," Robby said. "I know a place we can get them. There's plenty of them there. And we don't need any money."

"What the hell are you talking about? How do we get tires with no money?"

"I'm talking about a car dealership," he said. "It closed at noon, but that's not a problem. Because I know how to get in." He looked over at Miguel and raised his eyebrows. "And I just happen to know the guy who owns the place."

* * *

"Johnny?"

Daniel's eyes weren't open, his voice was wobbly, and even though he'd only said one word, it managed to be slurred. But at least he was awake. He wasn't trying to stand up, he wasn't fighting, and he knew who else was there. All of those things were a vast improvement over the last time he'd woken up.

"Whatchya doin'?"

Johnny was wiping the gash above Daniel's left eye, trying to get the dried blood off his skin and out of his eyebrow. He paused briefly when Daniel spoke, but he resumed the task as he answered. "I'm trying to fix your face," he said.

"Oh." Daniel responded like that was the most logical thing in the world for him to be doing, despite how absolutely surreal and bizarre it sounded. A few seconds passed in silence. "Wha's wrong with it?"

"You mean other than it's yours? Or the blood and cuts and bruises all over?"

"Oh. Yeah. Those." Daniel's forehead crinkled slightly, but his eyes remained closed. "Yer washin' m'face?"

"Yes, LaRusso." Johnny filled his voice with a patience he didn't feel, and he glanced around as he talked. In the time that had passed since Daniel had been out, a pit had been growing in the center of his stomach. He'd ignored it at first, thinking it was just anxiousness still hanging around after having had to put Daniel's leg back together, but it hadn't faded. If anything, it was growing stronger, and it seemed to be warning him of an impending danger he couldn't see.

He had zero doubt about what, or rather who, that danger was. His gut was telling him it was time for them to move, and he was going to have to listen to it soon. But he had to give Daniel a few minutes to get his bearings before they even tried.

"I'm washing your face. You decided to take a nap, and I didn't have anything better to do."

He did have other things to do, but he'd already done them all. His first order of business, after he'd realized there would be no waking Daniel up until he was damn good and ready to do it, had been to get the red jacket on him instead of just wrapped around his shoulders. Once they started moving, there'd be no way it would stay there, and it would work better, and keep him warmer, if he was actually wearing it. He hadn't thought it would be all that hard to do. He'd dressed a sleeping Robby more than once, when he was little, but putting pajamas on a napping toddler was nothing compared to trying to put a jacket on an unconscious, full grown man. It hadn't been easy, but Daniel hadn't moved or flinched or groaned, not even when Johnny had pulled him up from the ground and all but manhandled his arms into the sleeves.

After that, he'd searched the immediate area for a couple of small, sturdy branches. It hadn't taken him long to find what he'd needed. Both were no more than an inch and a half in diameter and a little under eighteen inches long. He'd used four leftover strips of t-shirt to tie them securely in place on either side of Daniel's leg. The makeshift splint started halfway down his calf and went halfway up his thigh. That should give his leg the extra support it would need to hold his weight, plus keep his knee from bending, which would hopefully stop his kneecap from sliding out of place again. As a bonus, it was holding most of the sliced-open pant leg closed. One more strip, wrapped around Daniel's ankle, would make sure it stayed that way.

"Oh," Daniel said again. "Whatchya washin' it with?"

Johnny glanced down at the small square of wet fabric in his hand – yet another piece of Daniel's sacrificed t-shirt – and smiled to himself. He'd found the creek while he'd been looking for branches. It was just behind the tree line, no more than ten feet from them, and when it came time to start cleaning Daniel up, he hadn't even questioned how he'd do it. He knew it wasn't fair to take advantage of Daniel's weakened and highly inebriated state, but he just couldn't help himself.

"Spit, of course. What else do I have?"

It took a few seconds for the words to sink in to Daniel's brain, but when they did, Johnny got the reaction he'd been looking for.

"Gross!" Daniel opened his eyes and started batting Johnny's hands away like he was swatting a fly. "Get 'way from … shit, man!" He started rubbing his face with his own hands, trying to wipe what he thought to be a very offensive substance off.

Johnny fought the urge to laugh, enjoying his humor but unwilling to ruin it. Then he realized Daniel's cheek, which had taken the longest to stop, had reopened and started bleeding again.

"Hey!" he called out. "Quit that!"

"I can' b'lieve … dude … tha'so fuckin' gross!"

"Calm down, Princess," Johnny said. He pushed Daniel's hands aside and dabbed at the cut on his cheekbone again. "I didn't give you a damn spit bath. It's water, from a creek over there." He gestured toward the trees impatiently. "It's just water." He sighed as he kept working. "I just got this messed up face of yours to look almost human, and now you've screwed it up again. I swear, LaRusso, you are such a pain in my ass."

"Ya said ya spit on me."

"Yeah, it was a joke. It's not my fault you're drunk enough to believe me."

"Is too!" Daniel protested. "Stupid whiskey … yer stupid idea."

"Can you even feel your face right now?"

Daniel had to think about that for a second. "No."

"Do you hurt anywhere else?"

"Well … no. Can' really feel … an'thing."

"Then it wasn't such a stupid idea, was it?"

Daniel's cheekbone had stopped bleeding again, so Johnny sat back and looked Daniel's face over one more time. That and his eyebrow had been the worst of it, but they didn't look so bad once they were cleaned up. They were wide, but they weren't very deep. His nose had stopped bleeding without any intervention, so all he'd had to do was clean under and around it. The blood running out of his mouth had come from a gouge on the inside of his lip, and that had stopped on its own, too. Daniel still had all his teeth, it didn't look like Mike had knocked any of them loose, and his nose wasn't broken. All in all, and considering what else had happened, his face had gotten off easy.

Relatively easy, that was.

"You're gonna look like a lopsided raccoon," he announced.

Maybe the bleeding parts weren't that bad, but the bruising was going to more than make up for it. Daniel's right eye looked like it had stopped swelling, and he could still open it, but it was already starting to turn a spectacular shade of purplish black. His left jaw was doing the same, spreading more than halfway up his face, along the outside of his eye. He had a large bruise on his right cheek, under and around the cut, all the way from his nose to his ear, and another on his chin. His face was a kaleidoscope of varying shades of red, purple, blue and black, and it was only going to get worse. Cracked or broken bones were a very real possibility, but he had no idea how to check for those.

"You didn't have to catch his fist with your face every time he threw it, ya know."

"Too busy to duck," Daniel answered.

"That doesn't make much sense." Johnny tossed the rag aside, dried his hand on his jeans, and pushed himself to his feet. "If you're in a fight, you should never be too busy to duck. Kinda hard to win if you let the other guy keep punching you in the face."

"Yeah, well … din't win. Did I?"

Johnny tipped his head and looked down at him. "Actually, I kinda think you did. At least, you were winning. Until you decided to walk away. Speaking of which …" The pit in his stomach had crawled its way up his neck and into his shoulders, and he looked around again. "It's time to get up, LaRusso," he said. "On your feet. We gotta get moving."

Daniel just laid there and blinked up at him.

"Come on. You said you could walk if I fixed your knee. I fixed it. So walk."

Daniel sighed and rolled to his side, slowly pushing himself up on his elbows and right knee. His left leg, held immobile by the splint, stuck out behind him. He should be able to get up anyway; Johnny had watched him get up from that exact same position at the tournament when they were kids. He got his hands under him, but then he pitched forward, landed back on his elbows, and dropped his forehead to his hands.

"What's wrong?"

"Ground," Daniel mumbled. "S'movin'. Gimme …" He tried again, but he didn't have any more luck the second time. "Nope," he said. "Still movin'. 'll jus' … m'good here."

Johnny slapped his face with both hands. "You gotta be kiddin' me."

"S'yer fault."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." Johnny added Daniel's drunken inability to stand up to the ever-growing list of things that had been his fault in the last hour, and he dropped his hands to his sides. Then he bent down, reached under Daniel's arms, and wrapped his own arms around Daniel's chest. "Up ya go, Dannyboy," he said. He steadied himself, stood, and hauled Daniel bodily to his feet.

Daniel bit off a cry of pain, groaned, and stumbled backwards. He ended up half-slumped against Johnny's chest, with the side of his head on his shoulder. Johnny looked down to see his eyes starting to roll back again. "Oh, no, you don't," he said. He tapped Daniel's cheek lightly. "Hey, look at me, LaRusso. Stay with me here."

Daniel jerked his head up and pulled away, far too quickly for his brain to compensate for what his body was doing. Johnny jumped forward, turned, and stepped in front of him, grabbing his shoulders to keep him from faceplanting. "Hey!" he shouted. "You in there?"

Daniel nodded slowly. "Gimme … minute …"

Johnny glanced around nervously. That feeling of danger was getting too strong to ignore. "I don't think we've got a minute, Daniel. We have gotta go. Now."

Daniel forced his eyes open and made himself focus on Johnny's face. Johnny knew the second he'd caught his meaning. Those blood-shot brown eyes widened and filled with fear, his left hand wrapped around Johnny's arm, and his right hand grasped at the front of his shirt.

"Mike …"

"He's not here," Johnny said. "Not yet. But we've been here too long. He'll be back sooner or later, and we can't be here when he shows up."

Daniel nodded slowly. "Okay. S'okay," he said. "Got this." Johnny moved to the side, giving Daniel enough room to take a step but still keeping one hand on his arm for balance. "Got it." Daniel stepped forward with his right leg, and his knee didn't buckle, which was a good sign. But when he tried to do the same with his left, swinging it to the side to compensate for not being able to bend it, it slid out from under him, and he toppled forward. "D'n't got it."

Johnny caught him before he hit the ground.

"Yeah, you don't got it." Johnny pulled him upright again. "Ya know, we're not gonna get very far very fast if you're gonna fall down every other step."

"Don' get up, Daniel," Daniel muttered. "Don' fall down, Daniel. Make up … yer damn mind, Johnny."

"How the hell did you fight on that leg when you can't even stand on it?"

"Could bend it. 'N sober. 'N sixteen."

Johnny nodded. "Got it. You're crippled and drunk and old now."

"Younger'n you."

Johnny shook his head, grabbed Daniel's wrist, lifted it up, and ducked under it.

"Whatchya doin'?"

"Making up my damn mind," Johnny replied. He pulled Daniel's left arm across his shoulders. Then he put his right arm around Daniel's back, wrapped his fingers around and through his belt, and pulled him both straighter on his feet and tighter against his side. "We're doing this my way."

"'kay," Daniel actually giggled as he said that. What the hell was so funny? "Ya say so …"

"Yeah, I say so." Johnny stepped forward, and Daniel did the same. It took them a few steps to get into a rhythm, but once they did, they fell into it more easily than Johnny had expected.

"Three-leg'd race. Jus' like … kids. But slower." Daniel snickered. What could he possibly think was funny?

"I'm glad you find this amusing," Johnny said.

"D'n't," Daniel answered. "D'n't laugh, 'll cry. 'm n't g'nna … cry …"

"Yeah," Johnny said softly. "I kinda noticed that."

Daniel's leg didn't seem to be giving him much trouble, other than being awkward, but Johnny was also holding him up, so he wasn't having to put much weight on it. But at some point, he had moved his right hand back to his side. The first time they stopped to rest, Johnny would have to check to make sure that hadn't started bleeding again. He didn't know that Daniel would tell him if it did. Hell, as drunk as he was, he wasn't all that sure he would even notice.

"So," Johnny began, as they walked – well, he walked and Daniel limped – out of the clearing. "Let me recap my day so far. I came here to ask you for a tiny little favor and do a little camping. We almost got in a fight. The boys almost got in a fight. You chewed my ass for everything I've ever done wrong. Some asshole I've never met knocked me out with a tree branch. You ran off and got yourself stabbed. I followed you up here to save your ass from your own stupidity. And now, I'm dragging a drunk with a gimpy leg, a hole in his side, and a damn case of the giggles down a mountain." Daniel chuckled again, and Johnny couldn't help it. He smiled. Maybe Daniel was onto something with that whole 'laugh so you don't cry' thing.

"We should go camping together more often, LaRusso. I'm having a fucking blast."

The sound of Daniel's laughter echoing off the trees was, strangely, the greatest thing Johnny had heard all day.

* * *

The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was a blurry blanket of green.

He blinked a few times, and that one big fuzzy thing sharpened into a thousand smaller ones. Leaves. Blue sky behind them. Trees.

He was lying on his back. On the ground. In the woods. He didn't know how he'd gotten there. The last thing he remembered was ….

"Daniel."

He pushed himself to his feet, turning a few times to get his bearings. His mind cleared quickly, as it always did. His memories returned a few seconds later. All of them.

He'd found somewhere to hole up to recover from his injuries. He'd taken too many. He'd been unprepared. His target had some tricks he hadn't revealed before. But none of that mattered. It was the end of the game that mattered.

He was going to win. He always did.

He turned to his left, found his own trail, and followed it back the way he'd gone to get where he was.

He'd been on a job for the better part of a year – a personal one. He'd been back in California since he'd first heard a rumor that someone had reopened the Cobra Kai dojo. _His_ Cobra Kai dojo. He'd gone there to take it back. He'd been sitting in his car, waiting for the spic-kid to leave and that blond guy to come out alone.

He'd seen a lot in his fifty-one years. He'd done a lot. He'd watched blood be spilled, and he'd spilled it himself. He'd witnessed the rise of kings and the fall of saints. He'd been the beginning and end of more than one. Very few things surprised him. But he couldn't believe his eyes – or his luck – when the dark-haired man pulled up and went inside. A few minutes later, he'd come back out, gotten in his car, and taken his own sweet time leaving.

He'd smiled for the first time in years.

He'd forgotten about the blond guy, the kid and the dojo. They were nothing. He'd followed the sedan out of the parking lot and onto the streets of the Valley. And he'd stayed behind him. Everywhere he went. For months. He'd been to his home. His business. His country club. Restaurants. Bars. The grocery store. The cemetery. The All-Valley Arena.

The mountain.

He'd stayed just out of sight. Just around the corner. Just behind the door. He'd done his job perfectly. He'd watched him. Observed him. Studied him. Learned him.

He knew Daniel LaRusso better than Daniel LaRusso did.

He'd enjoyed the hunt. He always did, but that one had given him more pleasure than any of the others. That one was personal. He'd taken his time. Savored his secrecy. Planned his moves meticulously. All that was left was to decide on his final strike. His last move. His killing blow.

Then, his phone rang.

_'I have a job for you, Mr. Barnes.'_

_'I don't work for you anymore, old man. I'm not interested.'_

_'You haven't heard who it is.'_

The prospect of payment was always a good thing. That he was going to be paid to do something he'd been doing for fun was even better.

_'Why now? After all these years?'_

_'He's corrupting someone who is very important to me. I want you to save him.'_

He wasn't in the business of saving people. Sometimes, it was a side effect. But it was never the objective.

_'We both have an interest in this, don't we, Mr. Barnes? Tell me you don't want it as badly as I do.'_

_'You know I can't say that. You know what I think. What I've always thought.'_

He'd never lied about his hatred when asked. But very few had ever asked. He'd always held it close to his vest. Kept it just beneath the surface. Never let it interfere. He'd channeled all of it into one point of focus. One memory. One defeat. One person. He'd held it where he could direct all emotions at it. He'd poured everything he'd ever felt, never felt, and never wanted to feel into it, leaving nothing else to cloud his mind.

There was good money in hatred. There was better money in apathy.

_'I should have let you do it when you asked.'_

_'Yes, you should have.'_

He'd missed his first chance to rid himself of Daniel LaRusso. He wouldn't miss his second. Even if taking it meant that his dojo would remain firmly in someone else's hands.

_'The future of Cobra Kai rests on your success. Johnny Lawrence must stay true to us. To himself.'_

_'What is he? What is he to you? To me?'_

_'He is everything.'_

He'd done his best to keep Blondie out of it. He'd chosen the perfect location for his attack. The only possible collateral damage was a brat who'd latched on to Daniel LaRusso and refused to let go. That he was Blondie's son was of no consequence.

In all the months he'd been stalking his prey, he'd never seen Blondie and the brat together. Then, he'd coached the beaner. He'd stood there and watched him beat on his own kid. He wouldn't care if that same kid got caught in the crossfire.

_'Mr. Lawrence is not to be hurt. That is the only demand I have.'_

_'If he stays out of my way, he'll be fine.'_

He hadn't expected Blondie and the spic-kid to show up. But he'd adapted. He'd overcome. He'd improvised. He'd made it so Blondie couldn't get in his way. He'd figured out how to use both brats to his advantage.

Weaponizing the three of them against his real target had been too easy.

_'Do you have a preferred method? How do you want it done?'_

_'With blood, Mr. Barnes. I want it to be as bloody and painful as you can make it.'_

It couldn't have worked any better if he'd planned it. Daniel LaRusso had played the game perfectly, exactly the way he'd known he would. He'd been only too eager to offer himself in exchange. He'd do anything to protect them. He'd walked into his fate willingly and without hesitation.

_'Make him suffer, Mr. Barnes. No mercy.'_

_'Gladly, Sensei.'_

A man sacrificing himself to defend the innocent was something most would call honorable. Courageous. Righteous. He called it useless. Futile. Stupid.

Perfect.

_'Will he interfere?'_

_'He's not the type to risk himself for other people. Especially not this one.'_

But he had. For some reason, be it humanity or compassion or some other useless emotion he himself would never understand, Blondie had risked himself. He had actually attacked him. To protect an arrogant, undeserving, worthless piece of filth.

The old man was never going to believe it. His sainted, golden boy had turned traitor. He'd showed up at the wrong time. Stepped in when he shouldn't have. Allied himself with the wrong side.

Blondie was too far gone to save. He'd made his choice. He'd chosen Daniel LaRusso. Over his past. Over his future.

His betrayal would cost him.

_'You will be well compensated.'_

_'You know what I want, old man.'_

And he would get it. Cobra Kai was meant to be his. And it would be. He would regain his rightful place at the old man's right hand. It would be well worth the price of some blood and bruises.

_'It's mine. It will be his. You can't change that.'_

_'And if he doesn't deserve it?'_

_'He does.'_

The ancient fallen tree loomed above him, but it was alone. The clearing was empty. He was the only living being there.

Where was he? Where were they?

Daniel LaRusso hadn't walked out of there on his own. He knew that. He was too good at his job. The man had help.

_'He won't play hero?'_

_'I can't imagine why he would. He never has before.'_

He glanced down at the disturbed earth. That was where he'd left him. That was where he'd last seen him.

Handprints in the dirt. Two smooth indentations – knees – near them. A puddle of red-tinged vomit. Splashes of darker red on the dried leaves. He knelt down. Discarded strips of cloth littered the ground. Someone had been bandaged there. Someone was bleeding.

He looked into the trees and smiled.

Daniel LaRusso had left a not-insignificant amount of his blood behind.

_'You'll take the job?'_

_'Of course, I will. You knew my answer before you called.'_

He hadn't missed. He'd hit his mark. He'd hurt him. Badly. It was only a matter of time.

His target had been painted. His prey had been weakened. His victim had been marked.

The hunt was on again. The game had begun anew. Daniel LaRusso may have played the last one to a draw, but there was no way in hell he was going to win. Blondie could help him all he wanted. It wouldn't matter.

One was injured, damaged beyond repair, dying. The other would be preoccupied, concerned with protecting him, distracted. When he found one, he would find the other. Both would pay for what they had done. Neither would leave the mountain.

Mike Barnes had a job to do, after all.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are …"


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Johnny bends over backwards, Daniel cuts ties, Robby shows his hand, and Miguel is left breathless.

"Are we going the right way?"

Johnny's voice took him by surprise. They'd been walking in silence for so long that he'd almost forgotten someone else was there.

"Hm?"

Johnny sighed. "I said are we going the right way?"

"Oh, um …" He lifted his head and forced his eyes to focus on the trees around them. He hadn't even been paying attention to what direction they were headed. Johnny had seemed to know where he was going, and Daniel didn't have much choice but to go wherever he went, so he'd let his mind wander off without the rest of him. "Where we s'posed to be goin'?"

"Back down to the camp," Johnny said. "Remember? Stop at the first aid kit, and from there to my car."

"Ya don' know where yer car is?"

"Of course, I know where my car is," Johnny answered distractedly. "It's right next to yours."

"Isn' mine … gone?"

"Okay. So it's right next to where yours was."

"An' that is?"

"I have no idea. Why the hell do you think I'm dragging your ass down this mountain?" Daniel snorted, and Johnny looked around. "So. Are we going the right way or not?"

Daniel blinked a few times, trying to see past the fuzziness, and he raised his eyebrows. After almost a full sixty seconds more than it should have taken him, he finally realized where they were, and he answered Johnny's question. "Nope."

He didn't notice Johnny had stopped walking until he felt the tug on his arm and belt. "Hey! If it's the wrong way, then stop going that way, genius."

"Oh." He stumbled a bit as he stopped, but Johnny pulled him back up straight again. "Okay."

"Do you know where we are? Do you recognize anything?"

He had to think about that, too. It was somewhere he'd been recently, and that much he knew for sure. It took him another minute to put the scenery in context with the mountain, but once he had, he knew exactly where they were. The pile of fallen trees and crumbling rocks on their right was where he'd hidden from Mike. That meant they'd just come down the path Mike had been following before Daniel had led him in the opposite direction. It also meant they were standing on a slight incline that sloped down to the edge of a cliff about fifty feet to the left of them.

"LaRusso?"

"Yep."

He swore he actually heard Johnny roll his eyes. "You wanna share with the class?"

He shook his head, trying to clear it, but it didn't do any good. He hated losing control. He couldn't walk by himself, and he didn't understand why. He should have been able to, but he couldn't, and that was bad enough. He was freezing, even with Johnny's jacket on. His body kept switching between shivering and sweating. And that damn whiskey … he couldn't even think.

He never let himself drink that much, and even if he did, he never drank that fast. He shouldn't have done it, and he'd known that while he was doing it. He should have just sucked it up and told Johnny, "No." But his knee hurt so badly, so much worse than it ever had before. And his side was killing him. He'd just wanted it to stop.

It had worked at first, and he'd been grateful. He'd been a stumbling, slurring, giggling mess, but it had been worth it. For a little while, at least, for just that short half hour or so of relief, it had been worth it. But it hadn't lasted. The pain was back, but his mind wasn't. What was the point of being drunk if everything still hurt? If his body could shut the effects of the whiskey off, why couldn't his brain?

"So stupid," he mumbled. "Think, Daniel. Think!" He reached up with his right hand, grabbed a handful of his own hair, and pulled it. "I gotta … just … focus."

"What are you doing?" Johnny asked. "Stop that." Johnny let go of his wrist and put his hand on top of Daniel's. Then he squeezed Daniel's fingers and pulled his hand away from his head. "Calm down, man. It's okay."

"Stop … sayin' that!" He tried to pull his hand away, but all he managed to do was throw himself off balance, and Johnny didn't let go. "It's not okay!" He wobbled on his right leg as he tried once more to yank his hand free. He started to topple forward, and he put his left foot down to catch himself. Fire erupted behind his kneecap, shooting up and down his leg, pouring through his veins, from his ankle to his hip. "Fuck!"

"Enough!" Johnny shouted. "Will you just … stop. Jesus Christ, LaRusso, knock it off. Stop fighting me." Johnny finally released his hand and grabbed his wrist again. "Ya know what? I need a break. We're gonna rest here." He didn't wait for an answer. He moved closer to the pile of trees, and before Daniel could do or say anything to stop him, he'd turned them around so their backs were to it. "We're just gonna sit down for …"

"Don' fuckin' … patronize me!" Johnny started to lower him down, but he stiffened his muscles and refused to bend. He wasn't completely helpless. He could at least sit down by himself. "I'm not … a damn child!"

"I didn't say anything about you. I said _I_ need a break. You're heavier than you look. My head hurts, and I'm tired. But while we're on the subject …" Johnny let go of both Daniel's wrist and belt, stepped away, and held his hands out to his sides. "If you don't want me to treat you like a _damn child_ , stop acting like one."

The sudden absence of Johnny's support was more than his body could handle. He was leaning too far forward. He pushed himself back with his right leg to keep from falling face-first into the dirt, but he moved too fast. His left foot slid out from under him, and his right knee buckled. He tried to catch himself with his arms, but he didn't move them quickly enough. Johnny jumped forward and reached for him, but neither of them were able to stop his left hip and lower side from slamming into the trees.

"Daniel!"

He had never felt pain like that in his life. His vision whited out. He had no idea what the scream that ripped itself from him sounded like, because he couldn't hear it. His entire being was centered on those few inches of ripped and sliced open flesh. Acid was pouring into and out of him. He pressed his hands against his side in an attempt to extinguish the flames he knew were eating away at it. He felt his own heart hammering behind his ears. He didn't know if he was breathing. He didn't care.

He had no idea how much time passed. It could have been seconds, minutes, hours, days. His hearing returned, slowly, and the pounding heartbeat in his head faded. He vaguely felt his body moving, but he wasn't the one doing it.

"Damn it, LaRusso. Come on. Come back."

The raging inferno in his side dulled to smoldering embers. He became aware of the rest of his body again. He could have sworn he'd fallen to his left, but he was sitting up, leaned back and slightly to the side, with his weight on his right hip and his head against the trees behind him. He felt tears drying on his cheeks, but he didn't remember how they'd gotten there. He felt a hand on his head, fingers in his hair, a thumb rubbing his left temple.

"Answer me, Daniel."

He pried his eyes open, and he found himself looking directly into blue eyes so filled with concern that he barely recognized them.

"Come on, man. Say something."

He didn't know how long Johnny had been kneeling there, talking to him, trying to get an answer from him. The look on his face said he'd been doing it for a while.

"J … Johnny … I …" His chest was heaving with every breath. His knee was throbbing with every beat of his heart. He felt something stabbing his side from the inside out.

"Take it easy." Johnny sighed deeply. Those few sounds seemed to have pacified him. "Don't talk, okay? Just breathe. That was … shit. That was rough."

Daniel swallowed hard, but there was nothing to swallow. His mouth was so dry he couldn't have spit if he'd tried.

"You're alright, LaRusso. It's okay."

He didn't want to say it. He didn't want to think it. He didn't want to admit it.

But he knew it.

"You're okay."

He'd known all along. He'd known from the second he'd felt the knife slice through his skin.

"Not okay," he whispered.

They were both pretending. It was time to stop. It was time to face the truth.

"It's fine, Daniel. You hear me?" Johnny was still rubbing his temple. It would have freaked him out if he hadn't found it as strangely comforting as he did. "You're gonna be fine."

Daniel shook his head slowly. He wasn't fine. He wasn't going to _be_ fine. Only one of them was getting off that mountain alive.

It wasn't going to be him.

"I'm _not_ … okay."

Johnny's hand stilled against his head. Then he pulled it away.

"Shut up."

"Johnny …" Talking hurt. Breathing hurt. Existing hurt. "Listen … to me …"

"Shut up!" Johnny pushed himself back and stood up. "Just shut the hell … stop it." He closed his eyes, and his hands fell to his sides. "I don't wanna hear it, so you're not gonna say it." He turned away as he shook his head. "Not happening."

Daniel's eyebrows lowered as Johnny started pacing around. His insistence that Johnny face reality was pushed aside as he was suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling that he was forgetting something. Something important. There was something he needed to tell him. But he couldn't remember what it was.

"You're not just gonna give up, man. We're gonna get off this mountain, and you're gonna be _fine_." He spun back around and spread his hands. "Forget the jokes. Why the hell do you think I'm _really_ doing this?" He took a step forward and waved his arm up the mountain, in the direction of the tree. "Why do you think I came after you? Why do you think I'm here?" He tapped his chest with the fingers of his left hand while he held his right hand out toward Daniel. "You think I'm doing it for fun? Huh? Think I'm doing it for me?"

Daniel shook his head again. He was trying to remember what he needed to say, but it was just out of reach. He was so preoccupied with thinking that he didn't pay any attention to the words that left his mouth. "You're not … doin' it for me … either."  
  
Johnny froze, tilted his head, and narrowed his eyes. "Ya know what, LaRusso?" he said hotly. "Fuck you."

Daniel jumped slightly, surprised by the words. What had he said to cause that reaction? Oh. Shit. That wasn't what he'd meant to say. Not like that. He'd wanted to say that it wasn't about him, it was about the kids, and he knew that, and that was the way it should be, and he agreed. Why had it come out like that?

"No," he said, shaking his head once more. "Johnny, I …"

Johnny's pacing had increased in both speed and intensity. He was stomping all over the place, in circles and zigzags, like he needed to move but didn't know where to go. He was waving his arms and shaking his hands, like he didn't know what else to do with them. Then, for no reason that Daniel could think of, he reached into his back pocket, and he pulled out the knife.

Daniel flinched when he saw it. He couldn't stop himself. Johnny was pissed, and he had a knife – _that_ knife – in his hand. Even though he knew in his heart that he didn't need to be afraid of him, and even though the knife was closed, it still scared him.

"Fuck this thing," Johnny growled. He flung his arm out to the side, and suddenly, that knife was flying through the air, right toward Daniel's head.

Daniel ducked to his right, hissing and gasping as he did. The knife bounced off the tree behind him, and it came to rest on the one he was sitting on. He swallowed as he lifted his head and looked up. It took him a good ten seconds to get his breathing slowed down enough to talk again. Johnny was staring at his hand, but he raised his head reluctantly to look at Daniel. His expression was equal parts surprise, frustration and guilt.

"Dude …" Daniel forced out. "What … the hell …?"

"Damn it," Johnny muttered. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I … Wrong pocket." He reached into the other one, came up with Daniel's phone, and held it out to him. "Make that work," he ordered.

Daniel lifted his hand without thinking and pressed his thumb to the screen. As soon as the shattered glass lit up, Johnny pulled it away again.

"I'm getting us out of here," Johnny said. "I'm getting us help. Both of us. Because fuck this shit." He held the phone up in front of him and glared at it, waving it around and lifting it up, continuing to pace. "I'm gonna find a signal, and I'm calling the cops and an ambulance."

Johnny stumbled and almost fell, but he caught himself. That triggered something in Daniel's mind. It wasn't safe for him to be wandering around like that, but he couldn't put his finger on why. He needed to focus. He needed to concentrate. He had to remember.

"I'm getting _you_ out of here," Johnny muttered. "I promised. I'm not just gonna let you …" He shook his head and turned away again. "I'm not letting you stop me."

It was something about where they were. Something made it dangerous.

"Fuck Mike Barnes. Fuck this mountain."

The mountain! Something … something about the mountain. What? What about the mountain?

"Fuck camping. Fuck cellphones with no signal."

Johnny was moving further away, still looking at the phone, not watching where he was putting his feet. He had to stop doing that. He needed to walk back to where Daniel was. But why?

"Fuck rocks and trees and headaches and knives and knees and … fuck everything. Fuck this whole goddamned day!"

"Come … away …" Daniel's voice was too quiet, too broken. There was no way Johnny heard him over how loud he was being.

What did Johnny need to move away from? What was he too close to? What was over there that …? He might fall. And if he fell he'd … what? What was it?

"Come back … over here." He tried again, but his voice wasn't any louder. Johnny was still storming around aimlessly, still shouting, still cussing everything he could think of that he hated at that moment. "Not … safe …"

Daniel tried to push himself up from the trees, and the fire in his side ignited again. He grabbed it and doubled over, gasping as the pain hit. And like a sudden beam of light shining through the clouds, as if the pain itself had cut its way through the fog in his brain, he remembered.

The cliff!

"Johnny!" Daniel tried to sit up again, held his hand out. "Stop!"

Johnny spun around, saw Daniel reaching for him, and took a step toward him. He turned too fast. His feet slipped backwards on the dried leaves and rocks. His legs flew out behind him. His head slammed into the ground face-first. He was out cold and on his way down the slope so fast there was no way he had time to realize anything was wrong.

"No!"

* * *

Robby had been working in the service department at LaRusso Auto off and on for the past few months. He'd helped with oil changes, he was learning how to do tune-ups, and he could vacuum a floorboard with the best of them. He knew where all the tools were. He knew how to find every part they kept on-hand in the storeroom. He'd even spent a few days playing around with the computer and learning to write estimates for the insurance companies. The only thing he'd never been allowed to do was operate the lift.

By the time he had the Q7 positioned right, secured, and in the air, he knew why.

"Is it always that hard?"

Robby took his hand off the button, smiled shyly, and walked toward the car. He ducked under it, running his hand along the bright yellow arms, checking to make sure the frame was correctly positioned on them. "No," he admitted. "Usually, they just drive them on and raise them up."

Miguel had followed him toward the car, but he seemed reluctant to go under it. "And it's not going anywhere?" he asked, rubbing his chest nervously. "It's not gonna fall?"

"No." Robby inspected the left side of the frame closely, looking for any scuffs or scrapes that may have resulted from their first attempt at putting it up. He held his breath until he was satisfied there were none. "That was totally my fault. I didn't pull it close enough to …"

"So, they're not supposed to go up on two wheels like that?"

"No." He shook his head, patted the frame like an old friend, and walked out from under the car again. "And we're not gonna tell Mr. LaRusso that his did, okay?"

Miguel grinned. "Sure. Whatever you say."

Robby slapped his hands together to dust them off, then brushed them on his jeans. "Okay. Let's get this done. Tires are over there." He gestured at the back wall, at the half-dozen racks filled with tires of all different sizes. Miguel nodded as he spoke. "I'll get the size off these." He patted one of the slashed tires that they'd need to remove. "And I'll go get the lug wrench. Now, when it comes to taking the wheels off and getting the new tires down, I'll need your …"

"Hey, Cuz!"

Robby froze. Miguel looked at him questioningly.

"Where ya at, Cuz?"

_'Fuck. Louie.'_

Robby closed his eyes, and his mind started scrambling for an explanation he could give. They were stuck. They were in the open, in the service bay at the dealership, outside of business hours, and they were alone. There was nowhere they could hide. And even if there was, it wouldn't have mattered, because once that man saw the Audi, he wouldn't give up until he'd found the person he'd come looking for.

"Why didn't we close the damn door?" Robby muttered.

Miguel, still confused as to what was going on, just shrugged. He didn't look worried. But why would he be?

Robby had told him he worked there and was allowed to be there. He said he had the security code, so obviously they trusted him. And it wasn't like they were stealing; they were putting tires Mr. LaRusso owned on his own car. He knew that's what Mr. LaRusso would have done in his position. They weren't the ones who slashed the tires. It wasn't their fault Mike had. They had to change them so they could get back.

What other choice did they have?

"Saw ya drive in, and I just … look, don't hit me, okay?" He was getting closer. "I know I'm not supposed to be here. I know you're mad. And, ya know, maybe this time, I kinda deserve it, but, I mean, come on! I'm your family, right? And after what he did to us, I just …"

He rounded the corner of the service desk, and his eyes widened in surprise. He was expecting to see Mr. LaRusso. He was expecting to see the Q7, since he said he'd seen it drive in. But he wasn't expecting it to be on the rack. He definitely wasn't expecting to see Robby and some kid he didn't know standing next to it.

"Robby." His voice was equal parts surprise and suspicion.

"Louie."

Miguel glanced at him and rubbed his chest again, obviously picking up on the tension and anger in Robby's voice. He stepped to his side, putting himself right behind Robby's left shoulder.

"Whatta you doin' here?" Louie asked. "Where's my cousin?"

"He's not here."

Louie smirked, and his entire attitude changed. He'd obviously been trying to corner Mr. LaRusso so he could weasel and con his way back into his good graces. But that wasn't going to happen. So instead of the cowering, groveling ass kisser he always was when either Mr. or Mrs. LaRusso might hear him, he became the cocky, arrogant pain in the ass that he was to everyone else.

Louie tilted his chin and fixed Miguel with a look that was probably meant to be intimidating but which just came off as nosy and annoying.

"Who's this guy?"

"Louie, Miguel Diaz. Miguel …" He pursed his lips and gestured across the room with his hand. "Louie LaRusso."

Miguel's eyebrows shot up, but he didn't say a word.

"Pleasure to meet ya, Miguel Diaz." He smirked again. "Whatchya doin' here, Robby? And how'd ya get in?"

Louie walked forward slowly, standing straighter and gaining confidence as he did. He thought he had the upper hand. He thought he'd just busted them doing something bad and possibly illegal. If either Mr. or Mrs. LaRusso ever found out that he'd gotten in, then they'd ask him how he'd gotten the code, and he'd have to tell them. As it was, he'd been incredibly lucky that Mr. LaRusso hadn't gotten around to changing it, like he'd been talking about doing all week.

His brain spun as he tried to figure out a way to talk them out of the massive trouble they were about to be in. If he didn't come up with something soon, they were so screwed. Not only would Mrs. LaRusso be called down, and not only would the police probably be called, but there'd be no way they could make it back to the mountain. And that meant his dad and Mr. LaRusso would …

"How do you think we got in?" He was only stalling for time while he thought up his real course of action, but it wasn't hard to sound irritated. The hard part was not letting Louie see just how desperate he was for him to leave. "I know the code."

"They gave it to you?" The amount of disbelief in Louie's voice matched what showed on his face.

He shrugged. "They trust me. Unlike some people here."

As the words passed his lips, he realized he knew exactly how to take control of the situation and make Louie walk away.

"Why would they trust you? You're just some kid. I'm his family."

Robby tipped his head and stepped forward. He knew what he was about to say was going to shake Louie's world. It was also going to bring Miguel into the conversation, and that would flip the advantage from Louie to the two of them.

"Maybe because I'm not dumb enough to drop Mr. LaRusso's name while I'm setting my dad's car on fire."

Louie's eyes widened, and Robby knew he'd hit the target he'd been aiming for. He'd always thought the whole idea of people's jaws hitting the floor was ridiculous, but in that moment, if it hadn't been attached, Louie's would have. "Your … wait. That Lawrence guy? That asshole who disrespected _my_ family?" Louie tapped his own chest and took two steps forward. "That guy's your dad?"

Robby smirked and nodded. "Yeah. He is."

"Wait," Miguel said behind him. "Wait a minute, that … that was you?" He stepped forward, holding his right hand against his chest and pointing his left hand at Louie. "You're the dick who set Sensei's car on fire?"

"He is," Robby said.

"You asshole!" Miguel took another step, a much more angry and threatening one, and Robby put his left arm out to hold him back. "Do you know what you almost did? My mom, my Yaya, all the families and kids that live there, you …" He was shaking as he spoke, and his hand went back to his chest again. "You could have killed all of us! You could've burned my whole building down!"

Louie took a step back. "Hey, I didn't mean for that to happen! I was there, yeah, but it wasn't me! I even told them, but, then that guy came out, and he, ya know, he kicked their asses, and they …"

"Good!" Miguel spat.

"Listen." Louie held his hands out in front of him. "We're gettin' off topic here. Just forget about that whole car on fire thing, okay? It's in the past. Can't change it. But you're still not supposed to be here."

"Neither are you," Robby pointed out.

"Just tell me what you're doin'. Because from here, it looks bad. And I like you, Robby. But I'd do anything for my cousin. And if you're doin' anything that's gonna hurt him, I'll …"

"What's it look like we're doing?" He gestured angrily at the Audi with the back of his hand. "Mr. LaRusso needed new tires."

"Why?"

"Because they're flat, dumbass. Why do you think?"

"So he sent you to get them?" Louie stepped forward again. "He just handed you the keys to his car?"

"Yes. He did." The irritation in his voice had been real from the beginning, but there was no more need to fake sincerity. He wasn't lying. "How would I change the tires if I didn't have the car?" Strengthened by the knowledge that he was about to play his final hand, he took several steps toward Louie, who backed away. "How would I get it here if I didn't drive it? And how would I be driving it if he hadn't given me the keys?"

"Well, I'm gonna …" Louie stuttered and sputtered again, and he pulled his phone out of his pocket. "I'm gonna call Daniel and ask him."

"You can try," Robby said. "He won't answer." That was completely true. Neither his dad nor Mr. LaRusso had answered any of the half dozen times he and Miguel had tried to call them.

"He's in the mountains," Miguel threw in. "There's no signal up there."

"Then I'll call Amanda!"

Miguel looked slightly worried about that. He may not know that they weren't actually allowed to be there, but he knew better than to want Mrs. LaRusso to find out what was going on. As far as Robby was concerned, the longer they could protect her from knowing anything was wrong, the better. She'd get scared and worried, and there was no need to do that to her. They were going to fix it, anyway.

Robby shook his head and shrugged. That was all he'd needed Louie to say. It was time to throw his final card and bluff his ass off. "So do it." He ignored the wide-eyed look Miguel shot in his direction. "Call her. And while you're telling her all about this horrible, terrible thing I'm doing for Mr. LaRusso …"

He reached into his pocket for his phone, and his eyes widened slightly when he realized he didn't have it. He knew he'd had it on the mountain. His dad had called him on it, but he didn't remember what he'd done with it after that. Miguel had used his phone to make all the calls from the car, because he'd been driving. But the success of his plan hinged entirely on him having that phone in his hand. If he didn't, then …

He felt a tap on his shoulder, and he turned his head. Miguel held his missing phone out to him with a sheepish grin.

"I'm gonna call the cops," Robby announced, taking his phone from Miguel's hand. "And report you for criminal trespassing."

Louie froze.

Robby's words came faster and faster as the anger he'd been holding back started to pour out. "Because you set my dad's car on fire, and you almost burned Miguel's building down, and you almost killed a whole bunch of people with Mr. LaRusso's name in your mouth, and Mr. LaRusso fired you, and Mrs. LaRusso banned you from their house, and he banned you from here, and you're not allowed on their property at all."

He finished off his rant by lifting the undialed phone to his ear.

"Alright!" Louie threw his hands up in surrender. Robby didn't lower his phone, but Louie did. "Alright. Easy, buddy. Kiddo. There's no need for that. I'll just … I'll go. Just …" Louie backed away, toward the open service bay doors. "I'm going." He turned around and started walking faster.

Robby and Miguel followed right behind him.

Just before Louie walked out, he turned his head and said, "Can you just, ya know, tell my cousin I miss him? And I wanna talk to him? Please?"

Robby shrugged. "Sure." He pulled the phone away from his face and pushed the button to darken the screen before Louie saw he hadn't dialed anyone. "If I remember."

"Thanks. And, Robby, I just … I'm sorry. About your dad's car." Robby shrugged again. "Tell Daniel I'm sorry, okay? And, ya know, take care of him. Okay?"

"I plan to."

Louie walked out, and Robby pushed the button on the wall. The glass garage doors closed behind him, locking him outside. He and Miguel stood there together, watching him walk back to his car, get in, and drive away.

It was only after the car was out of sight that Robby released the breath he'd been holding, and his shoulders sagged.

"That … was close," he said softly.

"Yeah," Miguel agreed. "But you handled him great. You're really good at that."

"Good at what?"

"I believed every word you said, and I know what's really going on." Robby glanced over to see him rubbing at his chest again, but smiling. "You're really good at that lying thing."

Robby snorted. "You have no idea." He spun on his heel, slapping Miguel on the arm with the back of his hand as he passed him. "Come on," he said. "We need to get moving. I'll need your help getting these tires down and changed. I don't wanna pull my shoulder out again."

He shuffled to a stop when he realized what he'd just said. He hadn't meant that like it sounded. He wasn't even thinking about how he'd popped it out the first time, or who'd pulled it out the second.

"I mean …"

"It's okay," Miguel said. He was actually smiling when Robby turned to look at him. "I deserve that." He huffed. "No. I deserve more than that. A lot more. So, if that's the only thing you ever say or do to me about it, I'm getting off easy."

Robby hadn't expected that reaction, but it was nice to hear. Maybe there was hope for them after all.

* * *

Daniel had heard people talk about things like time stopping, the world moving in slow motion, and everything happening too fast to keep up with all at the same time. He'd never experienced it himself. He'd always thought it was just people being dramatic, talking up situations to make them seem more dire. He'd never believed it could really happen.

Until it happened to him.

Until he sat on a pile of trees, barely able to breathe, to say nothing of move, completely powerless to stop Johnny from smashing through brush and ricocheting off trees and tumbling like a ragdoll down the side of a mountain toward a 30-foot cliff. Until he watched Johnny's back slam into a tree so hard that he bent in half backwards, watched his right side hit a boulder so hard that he swore he heard bones snap, watched his left shoulder collide with another tree so hard it flipped him over and spun him around. Until his brain for some insane reason started seeing the mountain as the world's biggest, and most deadly, pinball machine, with Johnny as the ball.

Until all he could do was scream.

"Johnny!"

_'It's my fault.'_

_'Yeah, right. Like you walked over and pushed him.'_

Time crashed back into place around him, and he gasped in a breath.

That last tree had almost certainly done some damage, but it had also done some good. Johnny had ended up on his back, just a few inches from the forked trunk. His feet were pointed at the edge of the cliff, which was less than ten feet from him. But his forward progress had stopped almost completely. He was still sliding, but he was moving very, very slowly.

 _'I_ _**let** _ _him fall. I didn't tell him. I didn't warn him.'_

Daniel closed his eyes and let his head fall forward. He gave himself a few seconds to breathe before he opened them again.

_'I have to help him.'_

_'How exactly are you gonna do that?'_

He started pushing himself up. The first two attempts failed miserably, because his arms didn't want to hold him. He didn't have any idea what he was going to do, but he had to do something. He wasn't going to just sit there and let Johnny fall off the damn mountain.

_'How are you gonna stop him?'_

_'I can't let him die! I won't!'_

He tried again, using both his arms and his right leg, and that worked better, but he still couldn't get all the way up. The splint was stopping him. He couldn't leverage himself up far enough to compensate for not being able to bend his knee. He glanced around, looking for something – anything – he could use as a crutch to push himself to his feet. There was nothing he could see within reach. There was a limb to his left that might work, but it was at the other end of the pile, and he didn't know if he could scoot himself over that far.

His eyes fell on the knife. It was still sitting on the trees beside him. He wanted to pull back from it, grab it and throw it, get it the hell away from him, but … maybe …

_'Maybe what?'_

_'Just maybe.'_

He looked from the knife, to his leg, to the strips of cloth holding the sticks in place on either side of it.

_'You're not.'_

_'I think I am.'_

It was a bad idea. It was a dumb idea. It had already gone all the way out once, and judging by the way it felt, odds were good that he'd torn at least one tendon, if not more. Walking on it without the splint would completely destroy whatever was left. It would never hold his weight.  
  
_'Even if it does, it'll never work again. You know that.'_

_'What does that matter? I'm already d…'_

_'He told you to shut up about that.'_

The pain in his side flared up again, and he pressed his hands against it. He bit his lip, panted through it, and leaned to his right to relieve some of the pressure. Then he shook his head and tried to pick out the best path to follow to get to Johnny.

_'Odds aren't exactly in your favor, ya know.'_

_'Yeah. I know.'_

Best case scenario would see him throwing himself from tree to rock in a barely controlled free-fall on purpose; worst case scenario would see him going down the same way Johnny had.

_'Don't be an idiot, LaRusso. Don't do it.'_

_'I'm gonna save him.'_

He heard a scuffling noise, and he looked up.

_'Or die trying.'_

_'Or that.'_

Johnny had moved again. He was a few inches closer to the edge than he had been.

_'This is gonna suck.'_

_'Yes. It is. But I've gotta get to him.'_

"Fuck … this whole … goddamned day."

All fear of the knife vanished. He snatched it up, flipped it open, and started cutting.

* * *

"You're sure they're on right?" Miguel's voice had changed as they'd been working.

Robby rolled his eyes and pushed the button to lower the car back to the floor. "Yes."

"The nuts are tight enough?" His voice was quieter, and he sounded like he was out of breath.

"Yes."

They still hadn't talked about their shit, but that was okay. If they'd gone down that path, they might have started fighting again, and neither of them was willing to do that. They both knew none of it was half as important as what they needed to do, so they'd let it be. They still weren't exactly friends, but they weren't exactly enemies anymore, either. They understood each other. He had a feeling his dad and Mr. LaRusso would be proud of them for that.

"They're not gonna fall off?"

Then Miguel had gotten bizarrely obsessed with the wheels falling off the car. And that was annoying as hell.

"Because I've heard of people changing tires and not tightening them enough and …"

"Miguel!" The car settled on the concrete, and a few seconds later, the lift arms did the same. Robby took his hand off the button and turned around, intending to tell Miguel what he thought about him questioning his ability to change some damn tires, but the second he saw his face, he changed his mind. "Hey. What's wrong?"

Miguel's face was red, he was panting, and he had his right hand pressed in a fist against his chest. He leaned forward, then he stood straight and pushed his shoulders back, but they crumpled and fell forward again almost immediately.

"Miguel!" Robby ran to him and grabbed his arms. "What's wrong? What's going on?"

"Breathe." It was less a word than it was a desperate gasp for air. "Can't … breathe …"

Robby's heart jumped into his throat, but it only stayed there for a second. He'd seen it before. He'd never dealt with it himself, but if it was what he thought it was, he'd watched Anoush do it once. And he'd watched Mr. LaRusso take care of him.

_"It's an asthma attack. He can't breathe. Robby, I need you to listen to me."_

"Asthma?" he asked. He didn't get an answer. "Miguel, do you have asthma?"

He got a frantic, rapid nod in response. "Stress … induced …"

That made sense. The day they were having qualified.

"Okay. Here. Sit down." Robby helped him to the floor, though Miguel was so preoccupied with trying to force air into his lungs that he didn't so much sit down as he collapsed. Robby thought back to the first thing Mr. LaRusso had told Anoush to do in the break room that day.

_"Open your chest, Anoush. Get your arms up."_

He knelt down in front of Miguel, took his wrists in his hands, and lifted his arms. "Put them behind your head," he said. "It's supposed to open your chest up. That makes it easier, right?"

Miguel nodded, a bit more slowly than before, and he did as Robby had suggested. He stopped panting, but his chest was still heaving.

"Is that better?" he asked hopefully.

"Need … inhaler."

"Where is it?" He reached into the pocket of Miguel's hoodie, thinking he'd keep it somewhere easy to get to, but it wasn't there. "Do you have it with you? Is it in the car? Did you leave it on the mountain?"

Miguel shook his head. "Sensei … threw it … away."

Robby's blood froze. "He did _what_?"

"Said … don't … need it."

Robby dropped his arms and head in frustration. "Miguel, I know you really like my dad, but sometimes, he's really damn stupid." He rubbed his hands on his thighs and pushed himself to his feet. "Stay there. I'll be right back."

He ran from the service area to the showroom as fast as he could, and he ran straight to Anoush's desk. He knew exactly what he was looking for, and he knew exactly where it was.

_"He's got an inhaler in his desk, Robby. Top left drawer. It's red plastic with a white cap. Run and get it for me."_

Miguel looked and sounded almost as bad as Anoush had that day, and the inhaler hadn't worked for him. Mr. LaRusso had ended up taking him to the hospital.

God, he hoped it helped Miguel.

He grabbed the letter opener out of Anoush's pen holder, and he started prying at the lock on the center drawer. "Sorry, Anoush," he said to no one. "I'll make it up to you. But you're about to save a kid's life." The cylinder popped open, and he pulled the drawer out. It was there, right in the middle of the drawer, exactly where he'd known it would be. He grabbed it and sprinted from the showroom so quickly that he didn't even close the drawer.

"Miguel!" he shouted as he ran back to him. "I got it. I got it." Remembering again what Mr. LaRusso had done, he shook the inhaler as he slid to his knees at Miguel's side. He didn't know what that did, but he figured it was important. "Here." He took the cap off and pressed it into Miguel's hand. "Can you do it? Do you need help?"

Miguel shook his head as he raised it to his lips. His hand was shaking so badly that Robby was worried he wasn't going to be able to hold it.

"Here." He wrapped one hand around Miguel's to keep it still, and he put the other on the back of his neck to help him stay sitting up. "There ya go."

Miguel exhaled, then pressed down on the metal canister as he drew in a breath. A few seconds later, he did it again. A few seconds after that, he did it once more. Then he closed his eyes, and his head fell back against the wall. Robby took the inhaler from him and sat back on his heels.

"Is it working?" Robby asked. Anoush had used it four or five times that day, but it hadn't done him any good.

_"Too much, Anoush. That's too many. Let's get you to the hospital."_

He was more than slightly worried about that same thing happening to Miguel. "You feeling better?"

Miguel nodded silently.

Robby put the cap back on, put it in his pocket, stood up, and walked to the water cooler. He grabbed a cup, and he almost knocked the whole stack over. After he'd stopped them all from falling, he almost dropped the one in his hand. He still didn't notice that he was trembling until he was trying to hold it still enough to fill it.

"Robby?" Miguel's voice was so soft he barely heard it, but it didn't sound as desperate as it had. That had to be a good sign.

He put the cup down on top of the cooler, took a deep breath of his own, stared at his hands, and willed them to stop shaking. When they didn't, he laid them flat on the base and leaned into them. Then he closed his eyes and took another.

"Robby?" There was a little worry creeping into his voice that time.

"Yeah!" he called back. He stood up straight, rolled his shoulders, and rubbed his hands together. "Right here." He picked the cup up and turned back around. "I'm comin'." He jogged across the room, careful not to spill, and he knelt down again. "Here," he said, putting the cup in Miguel's hands. "Got ya some water."

Miguel was still shaking, but it wasn't as bad as it had been before. Robby helped him lift the cup and tip it to his lips, so he wouldn't dump it all over himself. Miguel gulped from it like he was dying of thirst. Anoush had done the same thing.

_"Don't drink so fast, Anoush. Slow down."_

"Slow down," Robby said, lowering the cup and pulling it back a bit. "Don't wanna choke on it."

Robby had been more than a little freaked out after watching Anoush's attack. He'd spent the next several hours wandering around in a kind of numbed stupor. It had been so bad. He'd been so scared. He'd never seen anyone do that before. And it had come out of nowhere. One minute, Anoush had been fine and joking about a customer he'd had that morning, and the next, he'd almost stopped breathing.

After he'd gotten back from the hospital, Mr. LaRusso had noticed Robby's odd behavior and pulled him aside.

_"He's okay," he'd said. "I dropped him off at home on my way back. He's fine."_

_"Is that … normal? For him?"_

_Mr. LaRusso shook his head. "No. He doesn't have attacks like that very often. When he does, they're scary, and sometimes, he needs our help. We have to take care of him. That's all."_

_Robby nodded. "It's good that you were there. When he started, I … I didn't know what was happening to him. I didn't know what to do."_

_"And that's fine. No one would have expected you to. But, listen, Robby, I want you to remember everything you saw today, okay? Everything I did."_

_Robby tilted his head in confusion. "Why?"_

_"Because you might need it someday. You need to know what to do if he has another one and you are the only one with him."_

_"How could that happen?" he asked. "I'm only with him here. And you and Mrs. L are always here."_

_"Well, you never know. It could happen to him, or it could happen to someone else. What if it's another friend of yours, or someone you don't even know? What if you're alone with someone who needs help? Wouldn't you like to know how to help them?"_

Robby raised his eyes to the ceiling and smiled.

Miguel coughed, pulling his attention back to him.

"Hey," Robby said with a smile. "You okay? Is it gonna work?"

Miguel nodded.

"Do you need me to take you to the hospital?"

"No," Miguel answered. "I'm okay, I just … just need a minute. To catch my breath." They both smiled at the accidental joke. "Literally."

Robby took the empty paper cup from Miguel's hand and wadded it up. As he stood to throw it away, Miguel leaned back against the wall.

"How'd you know?" Miguel asked after him. "What to do? How'd you … know that?"

Robby tossed the cup into the trash can. He put his hands in his pockets and shrugged as he turned back around. "Mr. LaRusso taught me."

Miguel looked surprised. "He did?"

Robby nodded. "Yeah." He smiled fondly at the memory and dropped his head. "Funny thing. He thinks being able to breathe right is pretty important."

The words took him back to the mountain, to their aborted lesson on breathing. He remembered how wonderful everything had been then, how perfect it had seemed, how calm and balanced they'd both been, and how much he'd been looking forward to their day. He glanced up at the clock on the wall. How could that have possibly been only four hours ago? What the hell had happened? How had it all gone so wrong so fast? How had their weekend camping trip turned into his nightmare?

It was like they were stuck in an episode of _Black Mirror_.

"Yeah," Miguel said. "It kinda is."

He bit his lip, lifted his head slowly, and looked at Miguel from under his bangs.

"I gotta get back there, Miguel," he said. "I gotta get back to him." He closed his eyes as the nightmare flashed through his mind again. The darkness. The pain. The blood. "I can't let him … I can't lose him. I can't lose either of them. I can't …"

"Robby," Miguel said softly.

Robby opened his eyes and looked at him.

"You won't," Miguel said. "We won't."

He nodded, pressed his back against the wall, and leaned there for a few seconds. Then he slid down it to sit on the floor at Miguel's side. He stared at the concrete in front of them. "Do you think …?"

He couldn't ask the question. If he did, that would make everything he was afraid of real. And it couldn't be real.

"Think what?"

Robby pulled his knees up and laid his arms across them. He dropped his head and his eyes. "Do you really think they're okay?"

"Of course." Miguel sounded optimistic, but it was hollow. It sounded fake, like he was putting it on just for Robby's sake. He stretched his legs out in front of him and shrugged. "You heard them. Mr. LaRusso said he was fine, and Sensei said they'd be right behind us."

Robby looked at him without turning his head. "Yeah, well, they also lied to us."

Miguel shrugged again, and then he lightly swatted Robby's knee with the back of his hand. "I'm sure they're fine," he said. "I bet they're almost off the mountain by now, right? Probably just trying to get away from each other."

"Yeah," Robby said dully. He didn't believe a word either of them was saying. "Trying not to kill each other. Annoying the hell out of each other the whole time."

"Sure. You know how they are." The false brightness in his voice was fading. "I'm sure they're fighting, and arguing, and …" Miguel trailed off. He didn't believe it anymore, either.

Silence took over for a moment. Robby let it go on until he couldn't stand it. He had to say it. He had to hear it.

"Miguel?"

"Yeah?"

They were both staring straight ahead at nothing, equally lost in their thoughts.

"Tell me they're gonna be okay."

Miguel leaned his head against the wall and rolled it to the side. Then he smiled. "They're gonna be okay." That didn't sound fake, but it did sound hopeful.

"You promise?"

He didn't know why he asked that. He didn't know why he asked Miguel that, of all people. But somehow, even after everything that had happened between them the week before, with all that had happened to them that day, with everything they'd done and said, he knew that Miguel, of all people, understood.

They were just kids. They didn't know how to deal with stuff like that, because stuff like that didn't happen to kids. People didn't go sneaking around on mountains, hitting people in the head with tree branches, getting people who were afraid of them to go into the woods with them. Fathers and teachers didn't run into dangerous situations and then just disappear like that. Nightmares weren't real, and they didn't come true. It just didn't happen.

How the hell had it happened?

"Yeah," Miguel said. "I promise."

* * *

It was the most difficult forty feet Daniel had ever walked in his life. Of course, he wasn't so much walking as he was lurching from large object to large object, throwing himself into them to halt his momentum at random and bone-jarring intervals. He lost his footing twice, and he almost overshot one of the small trees he'd aimed himself at, but he managed to make it to that last tree in more or less one piece. That was all that mattered. And by the time he got there, he'd almost forgotten what it was costing him.

Everything but the pain. He couldn't forget that no matter how hard he tried.

He pressed his back and palms against the tree and slid down it, keeping his left leg straight out in front of him as he went. It had already far surpassed what he'd expected of it, but it was done. It wasn't going to hold him up anymore. Bending it deeply enough to sit on the ground was completely out of the question. His right leg and arms were shaking when he finally made it all the way down. He gave himself another few seconds to breathe before he set about doing whatever it was he was going to do.

_'And what are you gonna do?'_

_'Haven't figured that out yet.'_

He turned his head to the left and looked at Johnny. He'd slipped again while Daniel was making his way down to him. His head was about a foot below the tree and less than a foot to the right of it. His left arm was out to his side and slightly above his head. His hand was only a few inches away.

"Johnny? Can you … hear me?" He didn't get a response.

_'You expected him to answer you?'_

_'Will you shut up?'_

Johnny had hit his head hard enough to both knock himself out and bust it open again. There was blood running down his forehead, into his hair and over his eye. His nose was bleeding. He had some small scratches on his face that probably wouldn't do more than sting a bit. His shirt had slipped up, and there were dozens of scrapes and cuts of varying sizes visible on his chest – some deep, most shallow, almost all of them oozing red. Daniel couldn't see his right side to check if the boulder he'd bounced off had done any damage. He couldn't see his left shoulder, either, because his shirt was bunched up around it, but he was almost positive it had been hurt.

It was Johnny's back that worried him the most. He'd slammed into that first tree with so much force, and spines weren't meant to bend that far backwards. He couldn't see it, and he wasn't sure how he was going to check it, but he knew he'd need to.

_'If you're gonna do something, you better do it soon.'_

_'I know that.'_

Unconscious people with head and back injuries weren't supposed to be moved. That was rule number one. But he wasn't going to leave him where he was. He knew more than enough about dislocated joints to know that pulling on that left arm wasn't a good idea, either, but he didn't have a choice. It was the only one he could reach. If it was out of place, or if he pulled it out, he'd just put it back in.

"Got an … idea. Stay there … a second."

_'Of all the dumb things you've said today, that is quite possibly the dumbest.'_

_'Shut up.'_

Daniel was going to have to pull him up, drag him away from the edge, but he'd have to anchor himself somehow. If he didn't, he'd end up sliding down, too.

 _'And what's your track record with_ _**not** _ _falling down cliffs?'_

_'Shut. The fuck. Up!'_

He glanced around again, and he smiled when he saw the split in the tree. The gap between the two branches of the trunk wasn't large, but it should be wide enough for him to hook an arm through. It would have to be his left. He had to have his stronger arm free, and trying to use his left arm while lying on his back would be impossible. That meant all he had to do was lie down. On his stomach.

_'You sure you wanna do that?'_

_'Want to? No. Have to.'_

He scooted down slowly, carefully, and rolled over just as gingerly. He winced and pulled back when something stabbed him in the side. Then he reached down, grabbed the small rock he found there, and tossed it away. He lay back down, reached his left arm through the fork in the tree, and wrapped it around the trunk in front of him. He pressed his shoulder against it for a little extra support.

_'It's gonna hurt like hell.'_

_'Yeah. No shit.'_

"Okay," he muttered as his arm settled into place. He took a deep breath, turned his head, and slowly walked his right hand toward Johnny. "Okay, Johnny. 'm here." He wrapped his fingers around Johnny's forearm just above his wrist. "I gotcha. Gonna … pull you … up now." He knew Johnny didn't hear a word he was saying, but the silence was driving him crazy. And talking to an unconscious Johnny was better than the conversation he was having with the imaginary one in his head. "Just … gonna …"

He hauled Johnny toward him with his right arm as he pulled himself closer to the tree with his left. It did hurt like hell. But he clenched his teeth, groaned and kept doing it. For a few seconds, it seemed to be working. Johnny's head and shoulders were turning slowly, almost as slowly as he'd been sliding. "'kay," he said. "I … gotcha. Come … on …"

Apparently, the spot Johnny was lying was flatter than the rest of the ground around him. It had to have been the reason he wasn't sliding very much. Because the second he moved out of it, everything went to shit.

Daniel's arm shifted further down in the fork, and he felt it get pinned. If it hadn't been for Johnny's jacket, he was sure the bark would have ripped it open. Then Johnny started moving again, very quickly, but in the wrong direction. Daniel had just enough time to tighten his grip on his arm before Johnny's entire body lurched down. Suddenly, instead of Johnny's hand being next to the tree, it was below it. Instead of a horizontal grasp on Johnny's arm, he had a vertical one. And instead of having some slack he could use to his advantage, both of their arms were stretched as far as they could go.

Daniel's feet flew to the side, followed by the rest of his body. Rocks and sticks dug into his side as he got dragged out and around. There was nothing he could do to stop it. That was it. That was the end. That was how they were both going to die. They were going to Butch and Sundance off the side of the mountain.

His arm dropped again, deeper into the fork. The bark did slice into his skin that time, even through the jacket. He felt the sting of the cuts, and he felt blood running down the inside of it. It was starting to run down his stomach, too. He couldn't do anything about either of those things. He barely even noticed them.

He was too busy being ripped apart.

His back arched, he threw his head back as far as he could, and he screamed.

His mind flashed to the Stretch Armstrong he'd had when he was a kid. He'd had it for years, and he'd loved that thing. But he'd pulled and tugged and yanked on it so many times and so hard that he'd torn its arm off. It had ended up a deflated rubber body and a puddle of corn syrup on his bedroom floor.

He knew exactly how Stretch felt.

The pressure on his arms was incredible and immense. It was vibrating down his stretched and strained muscles, straight to his side. His feet scrambled for purchase, but there was nothing he could brace them against. Tears filled his eyes, clouding his vision. They rolled down his cheeks, and he let them fall.

_'So. This is going well.'_

He wasn't even going to answer.

"Fuck!" He grit his teeth and pressed his forehead to the ground. Johnny's arm shifted in his hand, and he tightened his fingers.

And then everything stilled. Everything stopped moving. Including them.

They weren't exactly what Daniel would call safe, but they were stable. There was absolutely no chance in hell he'd be able to pull Johnny back up from that position, but they weren't falling. And so long as Daniel's arm stayed wedged in the fork and he maintained his grip on Johnny's arm, they wouldn't.

He tightened his hold again, turned his head, and rested it on the ground. The pain was excruciating, but there was nothing he could do to make it go away. He'd just have to deal with it. He concentrated on his breathing, in and out, as deeply as he could manage. He focused his mind away from his body and toward its task. He only had to do one thing. He only had one job.

"Don't let go, Daniel," he whispered. "Don't let go." His mind shut down. His body went on autopilot. His hand squeezed Johnny's arm so tightly his fingers almost touched. His eyes fell closed.

"Don't … let … go …"


End file.
